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Its. 


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TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY 


BY 

MARY   BLAKE 


BOSTON 

D    LOTHROP    COMPANY 

FRAXKLIX  AXD  HAWLEY  STREETS 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELA 


COPYRIGHT,  1883. 
D.  LOTHROP  &  COMPANY. 


TO    BUSY    MOTHERS 

HOPING  TO    HELP   SOLVE   SOME   OF  THE  TROUBLESOME 
PROBLEMS   OF   A   WOMAN'S   LIFE 


CONTENTS. 

I.    TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

CHAPTER  i. —  How  TO  GET  THEM 7 

CHAPTER  2. —  How  TO  USE  THEM 41 

CHAPTER  3. —  WHY  WE  WANT  THEM 65 

II.  LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER  —  FIRST  SERIES 

LETTER  i. —  BABY'S  SLEEP 84 

LETTER  2. —  BABY'S  FOOD     .               92 

LETTER  3. —  THE  QUESTION  OF  DISCIPLINE       .       .        .  103 

LETTER  4. —  HINTS  ON  EDUCATION 118 

LETTER  5. —  CULTIVATION  OF  LITERARY  TASTE  IN  CHIL- 
DREN .               128 

III.  LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER— SECOND  SERIES 

LETTER  i. —  INDOOR  AMUSEMENTS 140 

LETTER  2.— GIRLS'  DOLLS  AND  BOYS'  COLLECTIONS        .  153 
LETTER  3. —  SOME  QUESTIONS  OF  ORDER.    SUNDAY  OCCU- 
PATIONS                 164 

LETTER  4. —  OTHER  PEOPLE'S  BIRTHDAYS          .       .        .  184 

IV.  A  MOTHER'S  DREAM  OF  HEAVEN  .        .        .192 

V.  HOW  A  MAN  TAKES  CARE  OF  HIS  BABY      .  198 


TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A  DAY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

HOW  TO  GET   THEM. 

"WELL,"  exclaims  tired  Mrs.  Motherly,  "if  any- 
body needs  twenty-six  hours  a  day,  I  am  sure  I  do, 
and  ten  days  a  week,  into  the  bargain !  The  days 
are  not  half  long  enough  ;  and  when  night  comes, 
the  thought  of  the  things  I  ought  to  have  done  but 
couldn't,  tires  me  more  than  all  I  have  done. 
This  very  day,  when  I  expected  to  do  so  much 
sewing,  has  slipped  away,  while  I  have  trotted 
around  after  the  children,  washing  faces,  brushing 
tangled  hair,  putting  on  rubber  boots  and  taking 
them  off  again  in  fifteen  minutes,  and  picking  up 
blocks  and  playthings,  scarfs  and  mittens,  over  and 
over  again.  I  have  mended  unexpected  tears  in 
jackets  and  dresses,  put  court-plaster  on  '  skatched 

finders,'  settled  twenty  quarrels  between  the  baby 
7 


8  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

and  the  next  older,  threaded  needles  for  '  make- 
believe  sewings,'  and  all  the  time  been  trying  to 
sew,  or  dust,  or  sweep,  or  make  gingerbread,  till  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  in  a  dozen  pieces,  and  every  piece 
trying  to  do  something  different.  At  night  I  am 
so  tired  that  all  I  ask  for  is  a  place  to  crawl  into 
and  sleep  if  I  can,  and  even  that  must  be  with  one 
eye  open,  to  see  that  the  baby  doesn't  get  uncov- 
ered. Yet  there  are  people  so  unfeeling  as  to  say 
I  ought  to  try  to  get  time  to  read  and  all  that ! " 

Not  so  fast,  my  little  mother.  It  is  all  true, 
every  word  of  it,  but  let  us  see  if  it  isn't  possible 
to  save  a  little  time  out  of  even  these  busy,  weary- 
ing days  for  something  higher  then  mere  physical 
needs. 

In  order  to  find  out  how  to  save  it,  let  us  see 
what  we  do  with  it.  Suppose  we  sort  over  our 
work  as  we  do  our  work-baskets,  and  see  if  we 
cannot  make  a  little  time  by  saving  it. 

The  first  and  most  important  of  our  duties  is  the 
care  of  the  children,  including,  of  course,  their 
physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  training. 

Next  comes  the  housekeeping,  i.  e.,  the  literal 
keeping  the  house  in  order,  looking  after  its  clean- 
liness and  general  pleasantness. 


HOW   TO    GET   THEM.  9 

Then,  cooking  or  preparing  and  serving  the 
food,  including  the  care  of  the  table  and  all  that 
pertains  to  it.  This  is  really  another  part  of 
the  housekeeping,  and  perhaps  ought  to  be  in- 
cluded in  it,  except  that  in  some  households  the 
details  are  given  over  entirely  to  servants,  while  in 
others,  they  are  in  greater  or  less  degree  the  work 
of  the  lady  of  the  house. 

And,  lastly,  the  sewing. 

As  regards  the  care  of  the  children,  it  is  almost 
impossible  that  there  can  be  any  superfluities.  To 
every  true  mother,  their  welfare  is  first  and  fore- 
most. Better  that  cobwebs  festoon  our  parlor- 
walls,  and  dust  lie  inch  deep  on  our  books,  than, 
that  we  neglect  our  children  for  anything,  no  mat- 
ter how  good  that  thing  in  itself  may  be.  Mission- 
ary meetings  at  one  end  of  the  scale,  and  balls  and 
fashionable  society  at  the  other,  are  all  blame- 
worthy, if  on  account  of  them  the  children  suffer. 
When  "  culture  "  turns  them  over  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  servants,  it  becomes  only  a  refined  form 
of  selfishness. 

By  caring  for  the  children,  I  do  not  mean  pro- 
viding them  with  plenty  of  wholesome  food  and 
warm,  clean  clothing  merely,  but  I  would  also 


IO  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A  DAY. 

include  that  indefinable  something  which,  for  want 
of  a  better  word,  I  must  call  "  mothering."  It 
consists  in  acts  of  loving,  motherly  attention,  such 
as  taking  up  the  tired  baby  toward  nightfall,  and 
nestling  him  in  your  arms  for  a  little  rest,  and  in 
calling  the  equally  tired  older  child  from  her  too- 
absorbing  play,  and  by  quiet  conversation  soothing 
her  busy  brain  into  a  condition  for  restful  sleep, 
instead  of  leaving  it  to  toss  the  weary  body  through 
hours  of  uneasy  dreaming.  It  will  lead  you  cheer- 
fully to  lay  down  the  interesting  book  or  fascinat- 
ing sewing  to  cover  Tommy's  ball  or  to  loop  up  the 
refractory  overskirt  on  Bessie's  doll,  and  patiently 
to  restore  order  after  your  dining-room  has  been 
turned  into  Pandemonium  on  a  Saturday  afternoon 
by  Harry  and  "  the  boys."  It  will  help  you  to 
teach  both  plaintiff  and  defendant  in  a  family  quar- 
rel something  about  the  rights  of  both  persons  and 
property,  and  to  show  them  that  there  can  be 
honor  among  children  as  well  as  among  thieves. 
These  things  take  time,  and  plenty  of  it,  but  they 
are  a  part  of  a  child's  birthright. 

But  some  mothers  "  mother  "  their  children  too 
much,  don't  they  ?  To  be  sure  they  do  ;  there's  a 
difference  in  hens,  even ;  some  cluck  and  scratch 


HOW  TO  GET  THEM.  II 

and  bustle  about,  with  so  much  maternal  eagerness 
and  ignorance  as  to  tread  the  life  out  of  half  their 
chicks,  while  others  go  clucking  around  in  an 
amiable,  comfortable  fashion,  always  spreading 
their  wings  at  just  the  right  moment  to  shelter 
their  brood  from  every  real  or  imaginary  danger. 
These  are  the  hens  farmers  keep  to  "set."  They 
are  such  "good  mothers,"  and  their  chickens 
always  turn  out  well.  So  it  is  with  children. 
Where  every  want  is  anticipated,  where  a  child 
seldom  does  anything  for  itself,  is  dressed  and 
undressed,  rocked  and  amused  long  past  babyhood, 
is  never  allowed  to  try  experiments  and  make 
failures,  the  mother  becomes  a  slave  and  the  child 
a  helpless  doll. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  judicious  neglect  in  the 
care  of  children.  By  this  I  mean  a  careful  care- 
lessness which  allows  them  to  look  out  for  them- 
selves as  far  as  they  safely  can,  but  yet  is  always 
ready  to  step  in  at  just  the  right  moment.  To  be 
sure,  their  clothes  will  get  soiled  and  their  heads 
bumped  oftener,  but  they  will  grow  up  more  sturdy 
and  self-reliant  than  where  they  are  constantly 
watched.  At  first  the  mother  will  not  save  much 
time  by  this  sort  of  training.  Indeed,  it  is  a  good 


12  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

deal  easier  to  do  everything  for  a  child  than  to 
direct  him  in  his  awkward  efforts  to  help  himself. 
For  instance,  the  four-year-old  boy  wants  to  wash 
his  own  hands,  brush  his  teeth,  and  button  his 
boots.  You  know  he'll  let  the  water  run  up  his 
sleeves  and  spill  it  on  the  floor  and  the  washstand, 
but  you  let  him  try.  He  is  so  proud  to  think  he 
is  helping  mamma,  that  you  haven't  the  heart  to 
tell  him  he  has  hindered  more  than  he  has  helped. 
And  when  you  find  that  he  has  carefully  washed 
the  inside  of  his  hands  which  were  clean  enough 
before,  while  the  backs  of  them  are  as  dirty  as  ever, 
and  that  his  boots  are  on  the  wrong  feet,  you  use 
some  ingenious  pretext  to  remedy  defects,  and 
then  quietly  laugh  to  hear  him  shout  to  somebody, 
"  I'm  'most  a  big  boy  ;  I  d'essed  myself  all  alone." 
But  what  a  relief  it  is,  when  he  is  six  or  seven 
years  old,  to  have  him  do  these  things  for  himself ! 
But  if  we  cannot  save  much  time  from  the  care 
of  the  children,  perhaps  there  is  some  unnecessary 
work  in  our  housekeeping.  Haven't  you  ever 
thought,  after  some  domestic  upheaval,  such  as 
house-cleaning  or  a  "thorough  sweeping" — "I 
don't  believe  it  pays  after  all  —  It  don't  look 
much  cleaner  than  it  did  before ! "  But  when 


HOW  TO  GET  THEM.  1 3 

your  husband  mildly  suggests  the  same  thing, 
did  you  not,  my  dear  little  hypocrite,  fiercely 
declare  that  men  never  did  appreciate  woman's 
work?  How  would  he  like  his  house  to  be  as 
dirty  as  a  barn  ?  A  sweet  little  lady,  one  of  these 
model  housekeepers,  once  said  to  me,  "  I  have 
just  cleaned  my  spare  room,  and,  honestly,  I  don't 
suppose  there  have  been  six  people  in  it  since  last 
faH.  But,  then,  I  know  it's  clean,  and  that's  some- 
thing." 

Think  of  the  paint-scrubbing,  spring  and  fall,  in 
places  where  a  fly  wouldn't  dare  to  set  his  foot,  and 
couldn't  if  he  dared,  and  the  sweeping  and  dusting 
on  regular  days,  not  because  the  rooms  need  it, 
"  but  then,  you  know,  it's  time  for  it."  I  suppose 
I  shall  be  misunderstood.  Neat  housekeepers  wiM 
look  aghast,  and  say,  "  Well,  I  can't  abide  dirt 
anyway,"  intimating  that  dirt  (not  dust,  that's  too 
mild  —  but  real,  unmitigated,  horrible  dirt)  would 
lie  in  shovelfuls  all  about,  if  they  didn't  throw  soul 
and  body  into  the  search  after  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  aunt  Easybody,  who  "  runs  in  "  for  an  hour's 
gossip  with  her  neighbor  in  the  morning  before  she 
dusts  her  sitting-room,  and  Fanny  Meander,  who 
sits  down  to  alter  the  trimming  on  her  spring  hat, 


14  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

with  her  bed  unmade  and  her  room  in  disorder, 
will  each  sweetly  smile  and  say,  "  That's  just  my 
doctrine."  But  I  don't  mean  either  of  you,  nor 
Mrs.  Aimless,  who  devours  "  Mrs.  Southworth  " 
and  calls  it  "  culture,"  while  her  children  make 
mud-pies  in  the  street.  I  am  talking  to  these 
particular,  conscientious  housekeepers  who  are 
working  and  worrying  (principally  worrying) 
themselves  into  early  graves,  for  fear  every  nook 
and  corner  from  attic  to  cellar  will  not  be  in 
immaculate,  speckless,  dustless  order.  It  is  beau- 
tiful to  have  it  so,  you  say,  thinking  of  Mrs.  A.'s 
exquisite  housekeeping.  But  Mrs.  A.  has  a  corps 
of  well-trained,  faithful  servants,  a  house  so  large 
and  well  arranged  that  all  the  actual  work-rooms 
are  snugly  tucked  out  of  sight.  The  laundry  has 
marched  away  from  the  kitchen,  the  sewing-room 
bidden  good-by  to  the  family  sitting-room,  and 
the  nursery  and  play-room  has  slyly  walked 
up-stairs  into  a  place  by  itself.  Yet  some  either 
alone  or  with  the  aid  of  a  "  cheap  "  Irish  girl,  try 
in  their  inconvenient,  crowded  houses  to  reproduce 
Mrs.  A.'s  results.  It  would  be  a  disgrace  to  her  if 
she  didn't  do  it — it  is  almost  as  much  of  a  dis- 
grace to  them  that  they  do ;  for  what  costs  her 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  1 5 

only  money  costs  them  vitality,  and  leaves  them 
neither    time  or  thought  for  anything  else. 

Again,  while  some  of  us  burden  ourselves  through 
superfluous  neatness,  others  do  the  same  thing 
through  excessive  elaboration  in  their  housekeep- 
ing. You  have  been  ushered  into  some  of  these 
delightful  parlors,  where  blossoming  plants,  and 
ivys  in  brackets,  singing  birds  and  pictures  and 
bronzes  are  arranged  in  beautiful  profusion.  Now, 
some  one  must  dust  the  statuettes,  and  water  the 
plants,  arrange  the  flowers,  and  take  care  of  the 
birds.  There  are  many  ladies  who  are  not  so 
occupied  with  other  duties  but  that  they  can  find 
time  for  these  things  and  for  reading  and  study 
too.  Occasionally  a  servant  may  be  found  who 
can  be  trusted  to  do  all  this.  But  there  are  busy 
mothers  of  little  children  whose  minutes  are  so 
taken  up  that  the  time  thus  used  may  be  all  that 
can  be  spared  from  imperatively  necessary  work. 
Now,  for  the  sake  of  a  greater  good,  may  it  not  be 
better  for  such  persons  to  deny  themselves  these 
things  —  or  at  least  to  substitute  for  them  some- 
thing simpler  ?  Don't  suppose  for  an  instant  that 
I  would  counsel  empty,  barn-like  rooms.  It  is  part 
of  our  work  for  husband  and  children  to  make 


16  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

home  just  as  attractive  as  possible.  But  among 
the  host  of  elegant  things  there  are  some  which 
almost  take  care  of  themselves.  You  will  see  at 
once  the  difference  between  pictures  on  the  walls 
and  those  on  easels  ;  ferneries,  and  stands  of  grow- 
ing plants  ;  hanging  baskets  of  autumn  leaves  and 
clematis,  and  those  which  need  to  be  taken  down 
to  be  watered  every  day.  These  things  are  meant 
to  express  culture  and  refinement  in  their  owners. 
There  may  be  times  when  even  these  must  be  put 
one  side,  that  the  mistress  may  possess  the  sub- 
stance of  which  they  are  but  the  shadow. 

Now,  let  us  look  at  the  third  division  of  our 
work,  viz.,  that  of  cooking.  In  some  households 
this  means  frying  doughnuts,  making  pies,  and 
cooking  the  greater  part  of  the  meals,  even  where 
a  servant  is  kept,  because  some  one  fancies  that  no 
one  can  suit  him  but  "mother."  In  others  it  is 
the  preparation  of  the  syllabubs,  and  meringues 
and  cake,  the  "fancy-work"  of  cooking.  To  save 
time  here  you  will  have  to  make  an  ally  of  your 
husband.  He  can  help  or  hinder  more  than  any- 
body else.  Husbands  are  usually  quite  ignorant 
concerning  the  time  and  strength  it  takes  for  all 
this  cooking.  At  heart,  they  wish  their  wives  to 


•-. 


HOW  TO   GET   THEM.  I/ 

have  the  best  opportunities,  but  they  see  them 
frittering  their  time  away  on  other  things  and  can- 
not understand  why  they  should  not  cook  to  please 
them  as  well  as  dress  to  please  themselves.  For 
this  ignorance  and  thoughtlessness  the  mothers  of 
the  men  are  somewhat  responsible,  and  many 
wives,  instead  of  enlightening  their  husbands,  in- 
crease the  mischief,  often  out  of  their  very  desire 
to  please  them  and  "make  home  happy."  Be- 
cause the  husband  has  had  a  hard  day's  work 
in  his  office,  study  or  shop,  his  affectionate 
wife,  anxious  to  give  him  pleasure  on  his  re- 
turn home,  carefully  prepares  some  marvelous 
bit  of  cookery  —  a  chicken-pie,  a  Neapolitan 
pudding,  a  salad,  or  a  frosted  cocoanut-cake  — 
on  the  principle  of  counter-irritation,  I  presume. 
And  the  man  eats  the  tempting,  indigestible 
dainty,  thinking  what  a  good  wife  he  has.  She 
enjoys  it,  too,  with  that  mild  and  genial  glow 
which  a  benevolent  mind,  conscious  of  a  good 
deed,  always  feels.  Some  years  hence,  when  he 
groans  under  the  torments  of  dyspepsia,  neither 
of  them  will  ever  think  of  laying  the  blame 
to  the  dainty  dishes  prepared  at  the  sacrifice 
of  so  much  time  and  strength.  "  But  he  has 


1 8  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

always  been  brought  up  to  have  such  things, 
and  likes  them."  That  settles  the  question. 
Certainly,  people  must  always  have  what  they 
like,  and  what  they  have  been  used  to !  But 
wouldn't  it  be  well  for  the  children  to  have  a 
different  diet  ?  What  sort  of  stomachs  will 
they  have  if  they  eat  such  things  ?  For  eat 
more  of  them  than  they  ought  they  will,  you 
may  be  sure,  if  they  are  on  the  table,  even  if 
other  food  is  prepared  for  them,  which  few 
mothers  will  take  the  trouble  to  do.  Besides, 
they  will  be  grown  up  some  day,  and  then 
they  must  have  these  things  because  they  have 
"  been  brought  up  to  have  them,"  etc. 

Perhaps  if  any  one  article  could  stand  as  a 
representative  of  all  those  things  which  it  is 
difficult  to  make  well,  and  which  are  good-for- 
nothing,  physiologically,  when  they  are  made, 
it  would  be  that  curious  Americanism  — pie. 
I  never  could  understand  the  peculiar  fascina- 
tion which  these  wedge-shaped  compounds  have 
for  the  masculine  palate,  but  the  man  or  boy 
who  can  resist  the  blandishments  of  a  piece 
of  pie  would  be  a  natural  curiosity.  The  un- 
der-crust  may  be  "  soggy ; "  that's  no  matter  ; 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  19 

there's  the  top-crust  and  the  "filling."  The 
one  may  be  leathery,  the  other  full  of  all  the 
untold  indigestible  horrors  of  molasses  and 
mince-meat,  citron  and  cinnamon,  cloves  and 
cider,  apples  and  allspice,  butter  and  brandy, 
sugar  and  suet,  wine  and  raisins  —  but  it's  pie, 
and  that's  enough.  For  the  sake  of  the  next 
generation  of  wives,  mothers  of  growing  boys 
ought  to  educate  them  into  a  better  taste,  lest 
by  and  by  "  a  piece  of  pie  like  that  my  mother 
used  to  make "  be  the  dreadful  will-o'-the-wisp 
to  lure  the  poor  wife  into  a  slough  of  despond. 
And  you,  tired  housewife,  by  occasional  des- 
serts of  fruits  and  puddings,  introduce  your 
husband  into  the  boundless  supply  of  whole- 
some and  toothsome  things  that  we  neglect  for 
the  sake  of  pie.  He  may  speak  scornfully  of 
your  blanc-manges  and  custards,  or,  as  the  des- 
sert comes  on,  raise  his  eyebrows  and  say 
significantly,  "  Nothing  but  apples  ? "  or  "  Oh  ! 
it's  rice  again."  But  do  not  press  your  "  re- 
form "  unreasonably ;  remember  the  defects  of 
his  early  education,  and  if  you  can  convince 
him  that  it  really  saves  your  time  and  strength, 
and  if  your  puddings  and  custards  are  good, 


2O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

he  will  soon  be  willing  to  accept  the  substi- 
tute for  a  part  of  the  time  at  least. 

As  we  all  know,  there  are  some  women 
who  are  natural  cooks.  The  "  natural  deprav- 
ity of  inanimate  objects"  seems  charmed  away 
when  they  get  hold  of  bowl  and  spoon.  Their 
ovens  always  bake  on  both  top  and  bottom. 
Their  soups  never  scorch,  nor  biscuits  sour. 
They  are  the  ones  who  always  carry  "  their 
recipes  in  their  head."  With  what  exasperat- 
ing indefiniteness  do  they  answer  you  when 
you  ask  them  how  they  make  any  particular 
thing — muffins,  for  instance. 

"  Dear  me,  I  never  have  much  of  a  rule  about 
liuch  things." 

"  But  can't  you  give  me  a  little  idea  ?  John  has 
so  often  spoken  of  your  muffins  since  we  took  tea 
with  you,  I  should  like  to  learn  how  to  make  them." 

"  Well,  I  stir  up  a  pretty  stiff  batter ;  depends 
something  on  how  many  folks  I  have  to  tea." 

"  Do  you  use  milk  ? " 

"Yes,  if  I  have  it ;   if  not,  I  take  water." 

"  Any  eggs  ? " 

"  Well,  if  eggs  are  cheap,  I  break  in  a  couple,  if 
they  are  dear,  I  don't  always." 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  21 

"  You  use  some  butter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  a  piece  about  as  big  as  an  egg." 

She  pauses,  as  if  that  were  all.  You  timidly 
suggest  — 

"  Cream  tartar  or  soda  ?  " 

A  look  of  surprise  creeps  over  her  face,  as  if  she 
would  say,  "  What  does  the  woman  mean  by  asking 
so  many  questions  ?  "  but  she  says  — 

"Well,  if  I  have  sour  milk,  I  don't  use  cream 
tartar  ;  if  the  milk's  sweet,  I  put  in  a  couple  of 
spoonsful  of  cream  tartar  and  one  of  soda." 

You  wish  you  dared  ask  whether  it's  table  or  tea- 
spoonfuls  she  means,  but  if  you  are  a  novice,  think 
it  must  be  tablespoonfuls,  the  muffins  are  so  very 
light. 

She  evidently  now  considers  the  thing  complete. 

"  You  haven't  said  anything  about  the  flour  ?  " 
you  inquire,  with  inward  trembling ;  but  you 
really  do  wish  to  please  John. 

The  look  of  surprise  changes  to  a  wide-eyed 
amazement. 

"  Flour  ?  Why,  I  supposed  any  goose  would 
know  about  that.  A  good  bowlful,  of  course.  I 
always  use  my  own  judgment  about  the  flour." 

You  retire  from  the  field  discomfited,  but  not 


22  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

being  easily  discouraged,  try  to  follow  these 
"  directions."  The  result  is  something  very  differ- 
ent from  Mrs.  Handy's  delicate  muffins.  John 
breaks  one  open  suspiciously,  and,  after  a  minute's 
inspection,  pushes  back  his  plate — with  that 
expression  of  huge  patience  which  men  assume 
when  they  want  to  say  something  severe  but  don't 

—  and  says  : 

"  Haven't  you  any  bread,  Mary  ?  Don't  let  the 
children  touch  these.  They  are  as  tough  as  leather. 
Why  don't  you  ask  Mrs.  Handy  how  she  makes 
her  muffins  ?  They're  something  like." 

You  nerve  yourself  and  pleasantly  ask  if  he 
wouldn't  like  a  slice  of  dry  toast.  (  Such  a  comfort 
as  dry  toast  is  under  such  circumstances  ! )  In  a 
week  or  two,  after  a  series  of  experiments,  you 
finally  evolve  from  your  "inner  consciousness," 
and  flour  and  eggs,  some  very  creditable  muffins, 

—  but  you  don't  call  your  experience  judgment. 
There  are  many  cases  where  it  is  a  woman's 

duty  to  prepare  the  food  herself,  as,  for  instance, 
when  the  fickle  appetite  of  the  invalid  husband,  or 
delicate  child,  or  aged  parent,  needs  the  persua- 
sion of  the  unmistakable  flavor  which  "  mother's  " 
practiced  hand  alone  can  give.  Where,  for  any 


HOW   TO    GET   THEM.  23 

reason,  the  lady  "does  her  own  work,"  this  is  a 
necessity.  However,  I  am  speaking  of  super- 
fluous, not  of  necessary  labor,  and  should  be  very 
sorry  to  be  understood  as  advocating  the  idea 
that  the  careful  preparation  of  the  family's  food  is 
a  superfluity,  for  it  is  not.  The  comfort  and 
health  of  the  family  really  depend  upon  this 
department  of  our  work  more  than  upon  any  other, 
but  elaborate  cooking  is  not  always  healthful,  nor 
are  simple  dishes  necessarily  unpalatable. 

There  must  be  a  judicious  unselfishness  in  this 
matter  as  in  many  others.  A  selfish  wife  may 
neglect  to  gratify  the  reasonable  preferences  of 
her  husband,  saying,  "  Oh  !  I  can't  bother  with  it ; 
Bridget  can  do  it  as  well  as  I,  if  he  only  thought 
so."  And  on  the  other  hand  an  over-indulgent 
wife  may  spend  time  and  strength  she  can  ill 
afford  to  lose,  in  a  hot  kitchen,  because  a  whim- 
sical husband  thinks  nobody  else  can  broil  a  steak 
or  make  a  pie  good  enough  for  his  lordly  appetite. 

Busy  as  these  departments  of  our  daily  labor 
keep  us,  I  think  we  shall  find  on  examination 
that  our  sewing  lays  upon  us  the  most  unnec- 
essary as  well  as  the  heaviest  burdens.  The 
difference  between  dresses  simply  made  and  those 


24  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

loaded  with  trimming  represents  hours  of  labor 
which  minister  to  no  one's  health  or  happiness. 
Our  children  are  just  as  well  off  if  their  under- 
clothing is  innocent  of  tucks  and  ruffles.  "  Yes," 
I  hear  half  a  dozen  say  at  once.  "  But  I  do 
like  to  see  children  handsomely  dressed,  and  I 
like  to  wear  pretty  dresses  myself."  To  be  sure, 
it  is  perfectly  right  to  gratify  our  feminine 
penchant  for  pretty  things  within  reasonable 
limits.  But  it  depends  something  on  what  it 
costs.  Mrs.  Easy-money  is  able  to  pay  for  the 
making  of  all  the  elaborate  garments  she  wears, 
but  it  is  a  different  matter  when  poor  Mrs. 
Struggle-hard  attempts  to  make  all  these  fine 
things  herself,  and  to  do  a  good  share  of  house- 
work besides.  And  isn't  there  another  side  to 
it  ?  May  not  simpler  things  be  actually  pret- 
tier, if  they  were  only  the  fashion  ?  Have  you 
never  turned  your  head  to  look  at  a  lady 
passing  you  on  the  street,  the  elegant  sim- 
plicity of  whose  dress  was  positively  refreshing, 
and  then  gone  home  and  worked  over  your 
yards  of  trimming  as  blindly  and  vigorously  as 
ever?  Just  think  of  the  hours  we  have  spent 
and  must  spend  wearily  sewing  together,  and 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  2$ 

sewing  on,  what  next  year's  dictum  will  say 
take  off,  and  put  on  higher  or  lower,  upside 
down  or  downside  up.  And  the  thought  and 
the  talk  it  takes  !  Is  not  a  new  dress  a  thing 
to  be  dreaded  ?  First  there  is  the  question 
of  the  material  and  the  color,  even  to  what 
is  the  fashionable  shade.  Then  the  cost  and 
the  "wear"  of  the  particular  kind  of  cloth 
we  decide  upon ;  next  the  bewildering  inquiry 
of  how  to  make  it  up.  Some  ladies  spend 
hours  settling  this  question  alone,  aside  from 
the  actual  work  itself.  Lest  you  may  think  I 
exaggerate,  let  me  repeat  to  you  a  conversation 
which  actually  took  place  in  a  dressmaker's 
room  in  Boston,  where  the  ladies  are  popularly 
supposed  (by  those  who  don't  live  there)  to  be 
far  above  such  things.  This  dialogue  was 
reported  to  me  verbatim  by  the  victim  who  lost 
one  hour  and  a  quarter  of  her  precious  time 
as  she  waited  in  the  ante-room  while  this  lady 
discussed  with  the  dressmaker  the  comparative 
merits  of  polonaises  and  overskirts,  fringes  and 
knife-plaiting,  and  this  was  the  finale: 

Lady.     What   would  you   have   up  the  front? 

Dressmaker.     Bows   are  pretty. 


26  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

Z.  Yes,  so  they  are ;  but  they've  been  worn 
so  long.  Can't  you  think  of  something  newer? 

D.  Not  that  would  be  so  suitable  for  your 
material. 

Z.  Would  you  have  the  bows  of  ribbon  or 
of  silk? 

D.     Just   as    you   like   about   that. 

L.  If  I  have  ribbon,  would  it  be  prettier 
to  have  the  ends  pointed  or  square? 

D.     It   doesn't   make  much   difference. 

L.  Now,  don't  you  really  think  that  silk 
is  more  stylish  than  ribbon  ? 

D.  Perhaps,  as  your  trimmings  are  silk,  silk 
would  look  better. 

L.     How  do  you  make  silk  bows  this  season  ? 

D.  Last  year  we  fringed  a  great  many;  we 
don't  do  it  so  much  this  season.  I  have  run  the 
silk  together  and  turned  it  for  some,  and  the 
effect  is  very  pretty. 

L.     How  many  would  you  have  —  five  or  six  ? 

D.     Five  is  enough.     You  are  not  very  tall. 

L.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  a  French 
bow  is  ? 

D.  I  don't  believe  I  can  describe  it.  It  doesn't 
differ  much  from  any  other  bow. 


HOW    TO    GET   THEM.  2/ 

L.  I  saw  some  bows  on  an  elegant  suit  at 
Chandler's,  yesterday,  and  I  thought  they  must 
be  French  bows. 

D.     Very  likely. 

L.  There  seemed  to  be  something  stiff  in  the 
middle  of  the  bow  to  keep  it  up. 

D.  Yes  ;  we  have  to  put  something  there,  or 
they  would  soon  "  flat  "  down. 

L,  Well,  isn't  there  something  you  can  put 
into  the  middle  that  will  make  them  keep  their 
place  and  yet  not  be  so  stiff? 

D.     I  don't  know  of  anything  else. 

L.  Well,  I  think  I'll  have  about  five  French 
bows,  and  if  I  see  anything  different  that  I  like 
better,  I'll  send  you  word.  Good  morning  ! 

Of  course  we  cannot  ignore  the  fashions  alto- 
gether ;  a  dress  so  plain  as  to  be  ridiculous  is 
as  far  from  the  standard  of  good  taste  as  one 
over-trimmed,  but  in  our  present  variety  of 
fashions  there  is  always  some  mode  which  is 
both  tasteful  and  easily  accomplished.  But  ask 
yourself  honestly  how  often  when  settling  the 
question  of  "  how  to  make  it,"  do  you  choose 
such  a  style  in  preference  to  the  most  elabo- 
rate and  the  "latest" 


28  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

It  does  not  follow,  of  course,  that  every 
handsomely  dressed  lady  is  perforce  a  slave  to 
her  needle.  There  are  natural  seamstresses 
whose  deft  fingers,  out  of  common  materials, 
will  conjure  garments  almost  as  magically  as 
the  fairy  godmother  changed  Cinderella's  rags 
into  a  beautiful  ball-dress.  Their  artistic  gift 
ekes  out  scanty  purses,  and  they  are  elegant 
in  apparel  which  costs  little  in  time  or  money. 
Sewing  is  a  pastime  to  them ;  after  two  or 
three  hours'  work  they  are  as  fresh  as  daisies, 
and  will  accomplish  more  in  half  a  day  than 
their  less  gifted  sisters  will  in  a  week.  They 
never  can  understand  what  a  torment  sewing 
is  for  those  who  don't  like  it ;  who  plod  along, 
drearily  sticking  the  needle  in  and  out,  inva- 
riably doing  everything  the  hardest  way,  for- 
getting what  they  are  about,  and  sewing  the 
wrong  pieces  together  and  having  to  rip  the 
work  out,  just  as  they  imagine  it  completed. 

It  will  not  do  to  judge  harshly  from  appear- 
ances. Mrs.  R's  dainty  ruffles  may  not  cost 
her  any  more  time  and  strength  than  Mrs. 
W's  plain  folds  do  her.  Still,  if  these  skil- 
ful fingers  could  only  be  satisfied  to  do  plainer 


HOW   TO    GET   THEM.  2Q 

work,  how  much  time  their  quickness  might 
save  not  only  to  their  fortunate  owners,  but 
also  to  others  who  vainly  try  to  "  keep  up " 
with  them. 

But  I  hear  Mrs.  Motherly  exclaim,  half 
indignantly :  "  I  don't  see  how  all  this  applies 
to  me.  I  never  had  an  elegant  dress  in  my 
life,  and  I  am  sure  I  don't  take  one  needless 
stitch  in  my  children's  clothes.  But  when  you 
think  how  the  knees  and  elbows  push  through, 
how  the  skirts  and  sleeves  grow  short,  and 
how  the  old  material,  which  I  must  use  for 
economy's  sake,  wears  out  before  its  time  — 
you  see  the  necessary  sewing  for  three  or 
four  little  children  is  a  great  burden.  If  I 
could  only  afford  to  hire  some  of  it  donej  " 

One  instance  of  actual  practice  is  worth  a 
good  deal  of  theory.  So  let  me  tell  you  a 
true  story. 

"  Once  upon  a  time "  the  mother  of  a 
family  of  little  children  found  the  long  sum- 
mer days  qoming  on  apace,  and  the  pile  of 
little  unfinished  dresses  and  skirts  and  jackets 
growing  larger  instead  of  smaller.  She  strug- 
gled bravely  for  awhile  to  diminish  it  herself, 


3O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

but  as  the  days  grew  warmer  her  strength 
grew  less.  The  children  needed  more  and 
more  attention,  and  still  that  sewing  loomed 
up  before  her,  a  perfect  Hill  Difficulty.  A 
seamstress  for  a  couple  of  weeks  could  do  the 
most  important  part  of  it ;  the  rest  she  could 
finish  at  her  leisure.  But  a  seamstress  would 
cost  money,  and  where  was  it  to  come  from ; 
for  as  is  the  case  in  a  good  many  families, 
there  were  more  ways  for  dollars  to  go  out 
than  for  them  to  come  in,  and  everything 
seemed  economized  to  the  last  degree  already. 
At  last  she  thought  of  her  summer  bonnet. 
In  the  spring  she  had  bought  a  dark-brown 
straw  and  trimmed  it  plainly,  saying  to  her- 
self, "When  warm  weather  comes  I'll  have  a 
delicate  summery  bonnet.  It  is  so  pleasant  on 
a  hot  day  to  put  on  something  light,  and 
fresh,  and  pretty.  My  last  year's  hat  was 
"  fussed  up "  out  of  old,  and  vexed  my  soul 
every  time  I  put  it  on."  But  the  price  of  a 
bonnet  would  pay  a  seamstress  as  long  as  she 
needed  one.  One  Sunday  as  she  was  dressing 
for  church,  she  took  out  the  brown  straw  and 
tried  by  smoothing  out  the  wrinkled  ribbons 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  3! 

and  "  perking  up,"  as  women  do,  the  mussed 
daisies,  to  give  it  an  air  or  freshness,  then 
shook  her  head  and  said,  "  It's  of  no  use ;  I 
can't  and  I  won't  wear  that  all  summer.  It 
looks  hot  and  shabby  already." 

That  week  things  were  worse  than  ever. 
The  teething  baby  needed  constant  care.  The 
little  girls  complained  of  their  warm  woollen 
dresses,  and  wished  mamma  would  hurry  up 
and  finish  their  light  cambrics.  She  snatched 
every  spare  moment  for  sewing  and  grew 
nervous  and  irritable  over  the  hurry  and  con- 
finement. Sunday  came  again,  and  with  it  a 
nervous  headache.  Too  worn  out  to  go  to 
church,  she  lay  on  her  bed  and  thought  — 
"What  a  fool  I  am  !  What  difference  will  it 
make  if  I  do  wear  that  old  thing?  I  hate 
the  very  sight  of  it  now.  But  I  can't  go  on 
this  way ;  I  shall  be  dead  and  buried  long 
before  summer  is  over,  and  then  what  good 
will  forty  new  bonnets  do  me?" 

On  Monday,  before  her  resolution  had  time 
to  cool,  she  engaged  the  seamstress,  and  before 
long  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  little 
girls  in  their  fresh  print  dresses,  baby  in  his 


32  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

short  clothes,  and  was  comfortable  herself  in 
cool  cambrics  and  lawns.  And  she  wore  the 
brown  straw  triumphantly  through  the  season, 
though  sometimes  when  she  saw  the  dainty 
bonnets  of  her  neighbors,  she  sighed  a  little, 
yet  the  remembrance  of  the  afternoon  naps 
she  had  taken,  the  books  she  had  read  and 
the  twilight  walks  and  talks  she  had  had 
with  the  children,  all  of  which  that  old  brown 
straw  had  bought,  was  quite  sufficient  com- 
pensation for  her  self-denial. 

It  is  very  easy  to  let  time  slip  through 
our  fingers,  even  when  doing  only  necessary 
work.  There  is  so  much  about  woman's  work 
that  may  be  made  to  spread  over  hours  or 
crowded  into  minutes,  according  to  the  way  you 
do  it.  If  you  believe  in  gilding  refined  gold  or 
painting  the  lily,  or  if  you  are  one  of  those 
unfortunates  who  walk  around  in  a  peck 
measure  all  day,  your  work,  however  simple, 
will  never  be  done.  I  once  heard  a  lady 
describe  her  dressmaker  as  such  a  wasteful 
cutter,  "  because  she  cut  right  into  the  whole 
cloth  for  everything,  without  the  least  attempt 
to  see  if  she  could  do  anything  with  the 


HOW   TO   GET   THEM.  33 

pieces."  A  great  many  women  use  their  time 
in  just  the  same  way.  They  fill  up  whole 
mornings  with  little,  unimportant  things  that 
might  as  well  be  crowded  into  odd  minutes, 
and  start  their  large  enterprises  just  when 
they  cannot  finish  them  without  serious  inter- 
ruption and  delay.  System  accomplishes  as 
much  in  housekeeping  as  in  anything  else.  It 
it  a  great  help  to  have  a  plan  for  each  day 
thought  out  the  evening  before  or  early  in 
the  morning.  By  this  I  don't  mean  a  cast- 
iron,  inflexible  frame,  in  which  you  and  your 
family  are  comfortable,  but  a  judicious,  practi- 
cable idea  of  what  you  wish  to  do  that  parti- 
cular day ;  a  plan  flexible  enough  to  allow 
for  unforeseen  emergencies,  yet  firm  enough  to 
keep  you  steadfast  to  your  purpose.  A  wise 
foresight  will  have  always  ready  some  light 
sewing  to  "  catch  up "  when  your  neighbor 
runs  in  for  an  afternoon's  chat,  or  your  hus- 
band wants  to  read  you  something  from  the 
last  magazine.  Your  fingers  can  be  busy 
while  your  mind  is  free  to  listen.  It  is  the 
half-hours  of  idleness  that  makes  the  "drive" 
and  overwork  when  crowded  into  a  corner. 


34  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

There  is  yet  another  superfluity  to  be  given 
up,  if  we  would  gain  time  by  saving  it,  which 
can  hardly  come  under  the  head  of  work ;  viz., 
much  of  so-called  "  society,"  not  simply  fash- 
ionable society ;  those  who  are  absorbed  in 
that  have  little  time  or  thought  for  personal 
culture,  except  to  furnish  material  for  the  even- 
ing's "  small  talk."  But  there  is  a  good  deal 
of  aimless  running  back  and  forth,  many  of 
these  little  evening  gatherings  and  tea-parties, 
where  nothing  more  important  is  discussed  than 
Mrs.  Smith's  new  baby,  or  whether  polonaises 
are  to  be  worn  or  not.  These  all  take  time 
without  rendering  any  equivalent  for  it. 

No  one  more  than  a  mother  of  little  chil- 
dren, who  is  tied  to  a  never-ending  routine  of 
distracting  cares,  needs  the  refreshment  which 
comes  from  an  occasional  neighborly  call  on 
some  congenial  friend.  It  is  a  change,  as  well 
as  an  interchange,  of  thought.  They  compare 
experiences,  and  she  goes  back  to  her  duties 
with  clearer  eyes  for  having  taken  an  outside 
view  of  her  home  as  well  as  an  inside  view 
of  other  people's.  Even  cerem  Dnious  calls  are 
very  useful  as  an  expression  of  courtesy  to 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  35 

new-comers,  and  a  means  of  keeping  up  a  half- 
formal  acquaintanceship  between  those  who  wish 
for  that  and  nothing  more.  We  must  give 
some  time  to  other  people  besides  our  own 
families,  or  we  shall  grow  narrow  and  selfish ; 
but  it  ought  to  be  in  such  a  way  that  both 
we  and  they  are  the  better  for  it.  But  where 
our  calls  consist  principally  in  getting  inside 
of  Mrs.  A.'s  handsome  parlor  and  wondering 
what  "did  possess  her  to  buy  such  a  queer 
carpet ;  and  she,  on  her  part,  to  think  it  ex- 
travagance for  one  in  Mrs.  B.'s  circumstances 
to  wear  such  a  handsome  velvet  cloak,  the 
time  is  worse  than  wasted.  Haven't  you  seen 
in  driving  through  some  of  our  Celtic  suburbs 
two  frowsy-headed  Irish  women  with  sleeves 
rolled  above  their  red  elbows  exchanging  con- 
fidences over  a  rickety  fence,  while  the  open 
door  into  the  cheerless  cottage  discloses  a  vista 
of  general  untidiness  beyond  ?  This  is  not  so 
very  much  worse  than  much  of  the  "visiting" 
which  many  women  in  better  circumstances 
indulge. 

Can't    you    remember   the   mental   and   moral 
exasperation  with  which  you  have  felt  the  price- 


36  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

less  minutes  of  an  especially  busy  morning 
slide  forever  away,  while  politeness  forced  you 
to  sit  helpless,  listening  to  the  aimless  chat- 
ter of  some  voluble  acquaintance  ?  The  smell 
of  burning  cookery  may  come  up  from  the 
kitchen,  or  the  sound  of  the  baby's  fretting 
from  the  nursery ;  but,  like  the  "  wedding 
guest"  held  by  the  "cold,  glittering  eye"  of 
the  "  Ancient  Mariner,"  you 

Cannot  choose   but  hear. 

Women  are  singularly  slow  to  comprehend 
that  their  time  is  worth  anything  in  dollars 
and  cents.  The  elegant  lady-clerk  who  conde- 
scends to  show  you  kid  gloves  while  she  makes 
a  scornful  mental  inventory  of  your  visible 
wardrobe,  as  well  as  the  servant-girl  in  your 
kitchen,  have  little  idea  that  their  time  is  pur- 
chased by  their  employer.  How  they  will  frit- 
ter it  away,  and  how  abused  they  feel  if  they 
are  brought  to  an  account  for  it !  This  disre- 
gard on  our  part  of  the  value  of  time  is  one 
reason  for  men's  contempt  of  women's  work. 

It  requires  resolution  and  steady  perseverance 


HOW   TO    GET   THEM.  37 

to  withdraw  ourselves,  day  by  day,  from  the 
petty  things  that  crowd  up  for  notice,  and  to 
bestow  our  attention  upon  mental  culture.  You 
must  expect  to  be  misunderstood  sometimes 
and  criticised  often.  Somebody  will  be  sure  to 
say,  "  Oh !  she's  strong-minded,"  or,  "  I  believe 
she  affects  literature."  And  one  of  these  same 
critical  somebodies  will  be  sure  to  "  run  in " 
to  your  sitting-room  some  unlucky  morning 
when  Bridget  hasn't  returned  from  her  cousin's 
wake,  and  you  are  wrestling  with  the  breakfast 
dishes  in  the  kitchen,  getting  the  children  ready 
for  school,  binding  up  the  baby's  burnt  fingers, 
and  trying  to  trade  with  the  ragman  all  at  once. 
Of  course  your  husband's  dressing-gown  and 
slippers  and  morning  paper  lie  just  where  he 
dropped  them  (he  is  the  best  man  in  the  world, 
but  he  cannot  be  taught  to  see  any  disorder 
in  leaving  his  occasional  articles  of  wearing- 
apparel  anywhere  and  everywhere),  and  of  course 
the  children  have  just  raced  through  the  room, 
leaving  muddy  "  tracks "  and  cracker-crumbs, 
and  all  the  doors  open  behind  them.  Perhaps 
your  visitor,  if  she  be  inclined  to  say  severe 
things,  will  close  her  description  to  her  friends 


38  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

with,  "  Oh,  well,  the  rest  of  us  could  get  time 
for  reading  and  all  that  if  we  should  let  things 
go  at  '  sixes  and  sevens,'  as  some  people  do  !  " 

Console  yourself  by  thinking  that  some  of 
our  most  able  literary  women  have  been 
excellent  housekeepers.  Remember  how  Char- 
lotte Bronte*  stopped  in  the  midst  of  some  of 
the  most  exciting  passages  in  "Jane  Eyre," 
to  go  out  into  the  kitchen  and  take  the  black 
specks  out  of  the  potatoes,  unknown  to  poor  old 
"Tabby,"  rather  than  hurt  her  sensitive  feelings 
by  ordering  the  younger  servant  to  do  it.  Re- 
member what  a  devoted  mother  to  her  numerous 
and  fast-coming  brood  of  children,  Baroness 
Eunsen  was.  Think,  too,  of  the  excellent 
cook-books,  which  such  busy  literary  women  as 
Mrs.  Whitney  and  Marion  Harland  have  written. 

It  is  one  phase  of  the  popular  unjust 
judgment  of  women,  even  in  these  liberal 
days,  that  it  regards  literary  women  as  nec- 
essarily neglectful  of  household  affairs,  in  the 
face  of  well-known  facts  to  the  contrary.  A 
man  of  undoubted  genius  may  be  never  so 
absent-minded,  his  financial  affairs  may  get 
into  the  wildest  confusion,  and  people  only 


HOW    TO    GET    THEM.  39 

smile  and  say,  "  Well,  one  man  can't  be 
everything."  But  if  it  is  a  woman,  no  matter 
how  great  her  ability,  if  her  parlor  table  is 
dusty,  or  if  occasionally  the  buttons  are  off 
her  children's  boots,  people  shake  their  heads 
solemnly,  and  say,  "Oh,  these  literary  women!" 
Perhaps  the  secret  of  the  prejudice  is,  that 
there  are  those  who  affect  the  eccentricities  of 
genius  without  the  genius  itself,  which  alone 
makes  the  eccentricities  endurable.  De  Quincey, 
speaking  of  his  mother,  says,  "Though  unpre- 
tending to  the  name  and  honors  of  a  literary 
woman,  I  presume  to  call  her  (what  many 
literary  women  are  not)  an  intellectual  woman." 
So,  although  leaving  household  duties  neglected 
in  order  to  write  weak  articles  for  still 
weaker  papers,  may  be  the  fault  of  a  so-called 
literary  woman,  it  is  not  a  characteristic  of 
one  who  is  either  intellectual  or  womanly. 
The  popular  verdict  is  right,  so  far  as  this, 
that  a  mother's  first  duty  is  to  her  family, 
and  nothing  which  conflicts  with  and  forces 
her  to  neglect  that,  is  either  womanly  or 
proper.  Be  very  sure  that  your  family  are 
contented  and  comfortable;  that  your  husband 


4O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

finds  yjur  intelligent  sympathy  and  counsel  an 
aid  to  him  in  his  work ;  that  the  children's 
place  in  the  mother's  heart  is  warm  and 
ample ;  in  a  word,  that  your  culture  is  but  a 
gathering  up  of  precious  things  to  be  poured 
out  for  their  benefit,  and  you  can  snap  your 
fingers  at  what  your  neighbors  say  and  think. 
After  all,  these  things  are  relative.  What 
to  one  family  is  a  luxury,  to  another  may 
be  the  most  pressing  of  necessities.  The 
society  in  which  we  move,  the  reasonable 
demands  and  wishes  of  our  nearest  friends, 
our  own  tastes  and  abilities  must  all  be  con- 
sidered before  any  one  of  us  can  answer  the 
question,  "  How  can  I  gain  more  time  for  my 
own  personal  culture,  without  neglecting  any 
essential  item  of  my  daily  duties  ? "  In  this 
matter  of  "  time,"  there  are  no  patent  rights, 
and  no  monopolies.  We  each  have  all  the 
time  there  is  ;  our  mental  and  moral  status  is 
determined  by  what  we  do  with  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW   TO   USE   THEM. 

TAKING  it  for  granted  that  without  neg- 
lecting our  families  we  can  in  these  various 
ways  save  an  hour  or  two  a  day,  the  next 
question  is,  how  we  can  use  them  to  the 
best  advantage,  for  it  will  be  very  easy  to  let 
the  time  gained  slip  through  our  fingers  even 
after  we  have  worked  hard  to  get  it. 

The  first  thing  is  to  set  apart  some  definite 
time  in  the  day  for  this  purpose.  Consider 
that  you  have  earned  it.  You  certainly  have, 
if  a  long  day's  work  can  do  it.  Talk  about 
the  ten-hour  law !  I  wish  every  mother  of 
little  children  could  get  her  whole  day's  work 
into  twelve  hours.  Most  mothers  find  their 
heads  and  hands  employed  till  the  younger  chil- 
dren, at  least,  are  in  bed.  Take  that  hour, 
then,  as  early  in  the  evening  as  possible.  I 
41 


42  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

know  the  mending-basket  will  loom  up  before 
you  ;  there  will  be  a  three-cornered  rent  in 
Mary's  school-dress,  boot  buttons  will  be  off 
shoes  that  must  be  put  on  in  the  morning ; 
but  do  only  what  is  imperative,  and  let 
the  rest  go.  Impress  it  on  your  mind  that 
you  take  this  time,  not  as  a  mere  selfish  'indul- 
gence, but  to  fit  yourself  better  for  your  other 
duties,  and  obstacles  will  vanish. 

Perhaps  your  tired  head  and  nerves  will  refuse  to 
read  anything  serious.  Then  laugh  over  "  Alice  in 
Wonderland,"  or  H.  H.'s  "  Bits  of  Travel."  What- 
ever hour  you  choose  be  resolute  about  taking  it. 
There  will  be  plenty  of  necessary  interruptions  ; 
accept  these  cheerfully  ;  but  do  not  let  trifles  in- 
terrupt you,  and  do  not  be  yourself  guilty  of  mak- 
ing any  unnecessary  hindrances.  You  will  be 
fortunate  if  you  can  average  four  or  five  evenings 
a  week.  But  that  time  steadily  improved  for  a 
year  will  accomplish  an  amount  of  work  which  will 
surprise  you.  You  have  probably  heard  the  story 
of  the  young  man  who  read  Macaulay's  "  History 
of  England  "  in  a  few  months,  by  reading  a  little 
every  day  while  waiting  for  his  meals.  The  books 
lay  on  the  parlor  table  of  his  boarding-house,  and 


HOW    TO    USE    THEM.  43 

while  his  companions  were  "  fooling,"  as  they  ap- 
propriately called  it,  he  read  a  few  pages,  finishing 
the  volumes  long  before  he  or  any  one  else  would 
have  supposed  it  possible.  After  awhile  you  will 
find  yourself  planning  your  work  ahead  and  crowd- 
ing other  duties  closer,  so  as  to  leave  this  time  free, 
just  as  your  boy  expedites  his  hoeing  in  the  gar- 
den when  there  is  a  base-ball  match  in  prospect. 

When  the  first  hour  is  over,  if  you  must,  take 
up  your  work  again  ;  you  will  at  least  have  some- 
thing better  to  think  of  than  your  servants'  failings 
or  the  neighbors'  gossip.  Add  to  this  time  all  the 
little  odd  nlinutes  of  the  day.  Keep  your  book 
(with  a  mark  in  it,  so  that  you  can  open  it  instantly 
to  the  place )  where  you  can  catch  it  up  when  you 
are  waiting  for  John  to  come  to  dinner,  or 
holding  the  baby  or  watching  the  baking  of  your 
cake.  Only  take  warning  from  King  Alfred's 
example,  and  don't  let  the  cake  burn. 

First  of  all,  however,  be  careful  not  to  fritter 
away  the  best  of  the  hour  reading  the  paper. 
There  is  a  deal  of  time  wasted  over  newspapers. 
Now  don't  look  at  me  that  way,  nor  say  in  that 
severe  tone,  "  We  must  read  the  papers.  We 
ought  to  keep  informed  about  events  in  our  own 


44  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

country,  at  least."  Granted ;  but  how  does  a 
woman  read  the  papers  ?  She  generally  begins 
with  the  first  thing  she  happens  to  see  on  the  first 
page,  without  much  regard  to  the  arrangement  of 
that  particular  journal.  If  political  news  comes 
first,  she  reads  a  little  on  that  subject  till  she 
thinks,  "  Oh,  this  is  stupid,"  and  then  her  wander- 
ing eyes  light  on  the  column  of  jokes  and  anecdotes. 
Perhaps  close  by  is  a  li  fashion  chit-chat "  or  a 
"  what  to  wear"  article.  She  reads  this,  of  course, 
with  a  vaguely  virtuous  hope  of  getting  some  idea 
about  making  or  selecting  her  winter  wardrobe, 
though  experience  ought  to  have  taught  her  that 
practical  ideas  are  seldom  found  in  a  fashion  article. 
In  the  next  column  is  the  local  news,  including  a 
thrilling  account  of  Tom  Jones's  runaway.  She 
knows  T.  J.  and  is  interested  to  hear  that  "  the 
spirited  animals  were  finally  controlled  with  no  more 
serious  damage  than"  —  etc.  Next  comes  the 
notice  of  Miss  Croesus's  wedding.  To  be  sure  she 
don't  happen  to  belong  to  that  "  set,"  and  so  was 
not  invited,  but  she  feels  a  mild  flavor  of  second 
hand  delight  at  the  glowing  descriptions  of  the 
bride's  superb  point-lace  and  her  general  graceful- 
ness, and  it  is  certainly  worth  knowing  that  the 


HOW   TO    USE   THEM.  45 

"  bridesmaids,  Misses  Gusher,  Puffer  and  Troddle, 
daughters  of  some  of  our  most  wealthy  and  influen- 
tial citizens,  were  radiant  with  the  charms  of  their 
youthful  beauty."  If  she  is  "musical,"  she  must 
read  about  Madame  Hi-puff's  concert,  in  order  to 
learn  that  she  treated  somebody's  concerto  "  with 
exquisite  phrasing  and  delicate  shading,  and  that 
her  technique  was  almost  perfect,  especially  in  the 
arpeggio  passages."  If  artistically  inclined  she 
must  look  at  the  art  notices.  It  is  worth 
some  sacrifice  of  time  to  know  that  "  our  young 
townsman,  the  gifted  Mr.  Burnt-Umber,  throws  his 
whole  soul  into  his  pictures,"  that  he  has  a  "judi- 
cious feeling  for  nature,"  and  displays  "  great 
breadth  of  treatment,"  and  "depth  of  color,"  and 
"  vigorous  handling."  Her  imagination  delights 
itself  in  the  description  of  his  "  wonderful  chiaro- 
scuro,"' "the  crispy  freshness  of  his  foliage,"  and 
"  the  juicy  tenderness  of  his  greens."  By  this 
time  half  an  hour  or  more  has  gone  and  she  has  not 
read  the  paper  yet ;  that  is,  has  not  read  to 
learn  about  important  current  events. 

Now,  how  does  a  man  read  his  paper?  He  first 
reads  whatever  is  of  value  in  his  particular  busi- 
ness, then  the  news  from  Washington,  if  Congress 


46  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

is  in  session ;  next,  that  from  Europe ;  then  fires 
and  failures,  and  the  money  market ;  after  that,  it 
not  too  hurried,  he  turns  to  the  editorials,  or 
searches  out  items  of  especial  interest.  In  fifteen 
minutes  he  is  ready  to  lay  the  paper  aside. 

In  planning  to  use  our  reading  hours  to  the  best 
advantage,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  it  takes  no 
longer  to  read  the  best  than  the  poorest.  It  is 
easy  to  spend  time  enough  over  some  foolish  news- 
paper story,  to  read  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays. 
Keep  on  hand  some  good,  hearty  book  with  "meat" 
in  it,  chosen  because  you  are  really  interested  in  it, 
not  because  it  is  "considered"  the  correct  thing 
to  read.  If  you  are  too  tired  and  sleepy  to  read  any- 
thing difficult,  try  something  light,  but  let  it  be  the 
best  of  its  kind,  not  "  slops."  It  is  a  good  plan  to 
have  some  book  like  Howell's  "  Wedding  Journey," 
or  Warner's  "  Back-log  Studies,"  to  read  in  the 
odd  minutes  and  in  those  evenings  when  you  are 
too  thoroughly  tired  in  mind  and  body  to  read  any- 
thing heavier,  and  keep  the  "  hearty  book  "  for  the 
times  when  you  are  fresher.  The  great  danger  of 
this  is  that  the  easy  reading  becomes  so  interesting 
that  the  steady,  substantial  work  is  crowded  out, 
But  are  we  not  sometimes  frightened  into  thinking 


HOW    TO    USE    THEM.  47 

that  good  reading  must  necessarily  be  tiresome  ? 
Novels  with  exciting  plots  are  more  fatiguing  to  a 
brain  weary  with  the  distractions  of  woman's  work 
than  a  thoughtful  essay  or  a  majestic  poem  ?  It  is 
not  stimulus  that  is  needed,  but  change.  In 
Macaulay's  "Essays,"  or  a  good  translation  of  the 
"  Iliad,"  the  perfection  of  the  style  or  the  music  of 
the  rhythm  falls  on  a  tired  spirit  like  showers  on 
the  thirsty  earth.  Yet  fatigued  and  busy  women 
stir  up  their  already  excited  nerves  with  Charles 
Reade  or  Wilkie  Collins,  and  then  complain  that 
they  "  can't  read  evenings ;  it  makes  them  so 
nervous  they  can't  sleep. 

Women  sometimes  think  they  will  not  be  inter- 
ested in  the  standard  English  classics,  just  because 
they  are  standard  and  classic.  Not  long  since  an 
intelligent  lady  was  telling  me  how  surprised  she 
was  to  find  Bacon's  "Essays"  so  interesting.  She 
said  :  "  I  was  lying  on  the  lounge  in  my  husband's 
library,  one  evening,  after  an  unusually  wearisome 
day,  and  took  it  up  because  it  was  the  nearest 
book,  and  I  really  felt  as  if  I  could  not  go  across 
the  room  for  another.  I  was  perfectly  absorbed 
before  I  knew  it,  and  read  for  an  hour  with  a  sense 
of  freshness  and  exhilaration  which  I  had  not 


48  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

known  for  a  long  time.  I  felt  as  if  somehow  I  had 
got  back  to  the  beginning  of  things.  I  had 
always  supposed  that  Lord  Bacon,  being  very 
learned,  was  therefore  very  dull  and  entirely  be- 
yond my  comprehension. 
If  you  like  history, 

The  world  is  all  before  you,  where  to  choose ; 

if  you  are  fond  of  science,  you  cannot  fail  to 
be  interested  in  the  papers  and  books  in  this 
field  —  never  so  numerous  and  never  so  well 
adapted  for  popular  reading  as  now.  If  you 
imagine  any  of  these  departments  "  too  literary," 
and  cannot  be  happy  without  a  novel,  there 
are  works  of  fiction  that  are  as  important 
a  part  of  one's  education  as  —  quadratic  equa- 
tions, to  say  the  least :  "  Romola,"  Ivanhoe," 
"Hypatia,"  "David  Copperfield,"  "  Pendennis," 
"The  Scarlet  Letter."  Just  think  of  all  the 
books  so  well  worth  reading,  and  yet  people  will 
continue  to  draw  out  of  the  libraries  dreary 
"society  novels,"  or  poor  translations  of 
worse  French  and  German  love-stories !  It 
is  like  eating  apple-skins  and  potato-parings 


HOW   TO    USE   THEM.  49 

when  bananas  and  oranges  might  be  had  for 
the  picking  !  Bishop  Potter  says,  "  It  is  nearly 
an  axiom  that  people  will  not  be  better  than 
the  books  they  read."  Consider,  therefore, 
what  kind  of  books  you  read. 

No  doubt  many  read  poor  books  because  they 
do  not  know  just  what  they  want.  The  catalogue 
of  the  library  is  a  bewildering  labyrinth,  and  they 
choose  books  at  random,  for  a  "  taking  "  title,  or 
because  somebody  else  says  they  are  splendid. 
To  avoid  this,  it  is  a  good  plan  to  make  a 
list  of  books  and  authors  that  you  wish  to 
read.  Have  in  your  work-basket  or  table- 
drawer,  where  you  can  lay  your  hand  on  them 
easily,  some  slips  of  paper  or  a  little  memoran- 
dum book  and  a  pencil.  If  you  have  to  go  into 
the  next  room  or  down-stairs  after  paper,  and 
then  hunt  up  a  pencil,  and  perhaps  a  knife 
to  sharpen  it  with,  the  chances  are  that  you 
will  never  make  your  list.  Then  if  in  your 
reading,  or  in  conversation  with  some  one  who 
knows,  you  find  a  tempting  allusion  to  some 
book  or  author,  you  can  "  make  a  note  of  it." 
With  your  list  in  your  pocket  or  your  head, 
you  can  go  to  the  public  library  and  intelli- 


5O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

gently  choose  something  you  really  care  to 
read  and  which  will  pay  you  for  the  time  you 
spend. 

There  is  very  little  difficulty  in  getting 
good  books.  Most  of  the  large  cities  and 
towns  have  well-selected  public  libraries,  and  in 
smaller  places  half  a  dozen  ladies,  by  a  syste- 
matic exchange  of  their  own  and  their  friends' 
books,  could  find  good  reading  enough  for 
several  months  at  least.  Very  few  people 
would  refuse  to  lend  books  to  a  club  of  ladies, 
were  some  one  of  their  number  responsible  that 
they  were  carefully  used  and  promptly  returned. 
The  persons  who  really  love  books  most 
devotedly,  generally  take  pleasure  in  lending 
them  to  appreciative  readers. 

Not  only  keep  on  hand  one  substantial  book, 
but  let  your  reading  run  for  awhile  on  one 
topic  and  its  relations.  A  great  deal  of  the 
good  of  our  reading  is  dissipated  by  leaving 
one  subject  before  we  have  read  enough  about 
it  to  clinch  it  in  our  minds.  The  next  topic 
taken  up  pushes  the  first  one  out  before  it 
has  had  time  to  get  rooted. 

Now  don't   conjure   up   an   elephantine   vision 


HOW  TO  USE  THEM.  $1 

of  a  ponderous  "course  of  reading."  The  very 
name  is  depressing,  for  it  recalls  to  almost 
every  one  some  discouraging  experience.  In 
the  ignorance  and  enthusiasm  of  girlhood,  I 
asked  a  "  bookish "  elderly  clergyman  for  a 
"course  of  reading."  He  very  willingly  handed 
me  a  list  of  books  covering  a  sheet  of  com- 
mercial note  paper,  made  up  largely  of  such 
works  as  Rollin's  "  Ancient  History,"  Grote's 
"  Greece,"  Gibbon's  "  Decline  and  Fall,"  and 
Buckle's  "  History  of  Civilization,"  with  Whate- 
ely's  "Evidences,"  and  Butler's  "Analogy,"  for 
a  diversion.  With  a  commendable  desire  to  be 
thorough  and  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  I 
attacked  Rollin.  On  account  of  some  trouble 
with  my  eyes,  half  an  hour  a  day  was  all  I  was 
allowed  to  read.  By  chance  I  happened  to  men- 
tion what  I  was  doing  to  an  enterprising  sopho- 
more of  my  acquaintance,  who  asked  merrily : 

"  How  long  do  you  suppose  it  will  take  you 
to  read  Rollin,  in  half-hour  installments  ? " 

"  I'm   sure   I    can't   tell,"    I   answered. 

"Well,  somewhere  between  ten  and  fifteen 
years,"  he  replied ;  "  and  you  may  expect  to 
finish  your  list  sometime  in  the  next  century." 


52  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

The  very  thought  so  frightened  me  that  I 
never  opened  the  book  again,  not  even  to 
count  the  pages  to  see  if  he  was  right. 

But  this  is  reading  by  course,  not  by 
topics.  A  friend  of  mine  tried  to  read 
Macaulay's  "  History  of  England,"  without  much 
knowledge  of  the  detail  of  English  history. 
She  found  so  much  of  which  she  knew  noth- 
ing taken  for  granted  as  familiar,  that  she 
grew  quite  discouraged,  and  gave  it  up.  One 
day  she  saw  the  "Student's  Hume."  Here  was 
the  very  book  she  wanted,  and  taking  that 
and  the  "  Student's  France,"  for  a  basis,  she 
constructed  a  course  of  reading  to  meet  her 
own  necessities.  She  began  with  the  Norman 
conquest,  for  she  had  no  interest  in  the  end- 
less squabbles  of  the  Saxons  and  Danes. 
(Some  time  afterward,  however,  when  she  was 
tracing  the  rise  of  the  European  nations,  she 
was  glad  to  read  this  earlier  history.)  She 
read  first  the  story  of  the  reign  of  an  Eng- 
lish king,  then  that  of  the  contemporary 
French  sovereign,  at  the  same  time  weaving  in 
a  woof  of  poetry,  romance,  and  biography. 
Bulwer's  and  Tennyson's  "  Harold/'  made  the 


HOW  TO  USE  THEM.  53 

times  of  the  Norman  conquest  vivid  and  real ; 
"  Ivanhoe,"  "  Kenilworth,"  and  Shakespeare's 
"  Henries,"  filled  out  the  pictures  of  the  days  of 
the  Plantagenets  and  Tudors ;  the  "Abbot,"  and 
"Woodstock,"  gave  her  the  "local  coloring"  of 
the  times  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scotts,  and  Crom- 
well. She  ran  over  some  of  the  Erckmann-Chat- 
rian  tales  and  Dicken's  "Tale  of  Two  Cities," 
for  a  more  vivid  idea  of  the  awful  days  of  the 
French  Revolution.  The  gossipy  "  Queens  of 
"  England,"  (abridged  edition)  showed  her  how 
the  royal  wives  and  mothers  felt  and  acted,  and 
Victor  Hugo,  in  "  Les  Miserables,"  furnished  a 
thrilling  description  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 
In  this  manner,  with  a  poem  here,  a  novel 
or  biography  there,  she  made  up  a  glowing 
mosaic  of  the  most  important  events  in  the 
history  of  the  two  countries  nearest  allied  to 
our  own,  and  with  none  of  the  tedium  which 
belongs  to  the  popular  idea  of  reading  history, 
and  was  thus  prepared  to  enjoy  Macaulay, 
Thiers,  or  Carlyle.  How  much  more  satisfac- 
tory her  two  or  three  years'  work  than  if, 
like  a  humming-bird,  she  had  sipped  a  little 
here,  and  a  little  there,  and  alighted  nowhere! 


54  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

Green's  "  Short  History  of  the  English  People  " 
(the  revised  edition)  is  even  better  than  the 
"  Student's  Hume,"  for  the  framework  of 
such  a  course  of  reading,  and  Yonge's  "  Paral- 
lel History  of  France  and  England "  has  the 
important  events  arranged  in  tables,  to  enable 
the  eye  to  assist  the  memory. 

The  deeply  interesting  story  of  the  downfall 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  progress  of  Chris- 
tianity, the  growth  of  the  Church,  the  invasions 
of  the  barbarians,  and  the  rise  of  the  modern 
European  nations,  can  be  read  in  the  same 
manner  with  the  "Student's  Gibbon  "  for  a  basis, 
with  Charles  Kingsley's  "  Roman  and  Teuton," 
White's  "  Eighteen  Christian  Centuries,"  and 
Creasy's  "Decisive  Battles  of  the  World,"  to  group 
events  and  trace  out  causes  and  consequences, 
Guizot's  "  History  of  Civilization "  for  the  pro- 
founder  philosophy  of  history. 

The  modern  discoveries  in  astronomy  and 
chemistry  made  by  spectrum  analysis,  form  an- 
other intensely  interesting  group  of  topics. 
One  must  read  scientific  books,  however,  as  we 
make  children's  dresses,  with  great  tucks,  and 
"  turnings-in,"  to  allow  for  growth. 


HOW    TO    USE    THEM.  55 

Take  some  standard  work  on  English  litera- 
ture for  the  basis  of  another  set  of  subjects, 
and  read  selections  from  the  works  of  such 
authors  as  interest  you  most.  Taine  would  be 
excellent  for  this  purpose,  provided  you  can  get 
the  "  inevitable  French  flavor "  out  of  your 
mouth  afterwards. 

Imagine   the  delight   of    a   course   of    reading 
which  should  take  in  biographies  like  "  Recollec- 
tions of  Mary  Somerville,"    Mrs.  Gaskell's  "  Life 
of  Charlotte  Bronte,"  Lockhart's  "Walter  Scott," 
Forster's  "  Life  of  Dickens,"  "  Life  and  Letters  of 
Macaulay,"  "  Memoir  of  Charles  Kingsley,"  "Au- 
tobiography of  Harriet  Martineau"  and  supplement 
each    with  two   or   three   of    each   author's   best 
and  most  characteristic  works,  and  with  extracts 
from   the   writings   of    his    most    noted    contem- 
poraries.    Why,  one   could   move    in    "the   best 
society "   all    the  while,   and    that   without    the 
bother  of  dinner-parties  and  new  dresses,  either ! 
Reading    by   topics    in    this  way   necessitates 
the    cultivation    of   the    art    of    judicious   "  skip- 
ping."    Not  by  any  means  a  picking  out  of  the 
easy  passages  and  excluding  the  difficult  ones  — 
often   just   the   reverse ;     but    a    selection    from 


56  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

the  book  of  what  you  want  now.  Another 
time  you  may  want  something  entirely  differ- 
ent. Suppose  you  are  reading  "Romola,"  and 
want  more  information  about  Savonarola  and 
his  times.  The  first  four  chapters  of  Grimm's 
"Life  of  Michael  Angelo"  will  be  just  what  you 
need.  You  may  leave  the  rest  of  the  book 
till  some  future  day,  when  you  wish  to  trace 
the  intricacies  of  Florentine  history,  or  are  in- 
terested in  the  life  of  the  artist  or  the  history 
of  art.  Many  people  who  would  never  have 
patience  to  read  the  whole  of  the  first  volume 
of  Taine's  "  English  Literature"  would  enjoy  very 
much  his  chapters  on  Dickens,  Tennyson,  and 
Macaulay,  especially  if  they  had  just  read  some 
of  the  works  of  these  authors.  Others,  inter- 
ested in  the  rise  of  the  English  language  and 
literature,  would  turn  to  his  opening  chapters 
with  equal  enjoyment. 

When  you  find  what  you  want,  pounce  upon 
it,  whether  it  is  in  the  last,  middle,  or  first 
chapter.  It  is  not  necessary  to  begin  at  the 
beginning  of  the  world.  Begin  right  in  the 
very  middle  of  things,  wherever  you  are  inter- 
ested, and  "read  out."  When  you  have  got 


HOW   TO    USE   THEM.  57 

out,  you  will  want  to  turn  around  and  "  read 
in "  again,  to  the  place  you  began.  A  recent 
writer  maintains  that  the  best  method  is  to 
read  backward,  taking  the  present  as  a  vantage- 
point  of  vital  interest,  and  searching  for 
causes. 

Gibbon  is  said  to  have  read  from  several 
books  at  once.  One  topic  would  suggest  an- 
other in  a  different  book  ;  that  would  broaden 
out  into  something  else  ;  that  to  something 
still  different,  until  he  had  a  dozen  books  piled 
up  about  him  before  he  was  ready  to  return 
to  the  original  work. 

Do  not  be  afraid  that  your  reading  will  be 
disconnected.  Everything  must  hang  on  to 
something  else,  and  have  something  else  hang- 
ing on  to  it.  Group  the  events  around  some 
central  point,  and  then  what  goes  before  and 
what  comes  after  that  will  take  their  proper 
places  naturally. 

Or,  again,  let  the  different  events  in  the 
history  of  a  nation  or  a  century  be  strung  on 
the  thread  of  some  important  idea.  In  English 
history  it  might  be  the  rise  and  progress  of 
English  liberty;  and  then  John  and  the  Magna 


58  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

Charta,  Henry  the  Eighth's  defiance  of  the  pope, 
the  Stuarts  and  Cromwell,  and  a  hundred 
other  persons  and  events  will  fall  into  line. 
In  mediaeval  history  let  it  be  the  progress  of 
Christianity,  —  and  the  confusion  and  clamor 
of  sects,  the  roar  and  smoke  of  battles,  will 
be  only  the  cloud  of  dust  that  conceals,  not 
impedes,  the  march  of  human  progress. 

But  you  say,  "I  can't  remember  history." 
Don't  try  to.  Most  people  try  to  remember 
too  many  details,  and  end  by  forgetting  every- 
thing. Here,  as  in  every  other  department  of 
knowledge,  you  must  "  dare  to  be  ignorant  of 
many  things,  that  you  may  not  be  ignorant  of 
everything."  It  is  not  the  detail  of  battles 
and  generals  and  kings  and  emperors  and  pre- 
lates, and  assassinations  and  dethronements  and 
dates  that  you  want ;  it  is  the  march  of  events 
—  "the  swing  of  the  centuries."  The  details 
are  useful  to  give  vividness  to  your  idea  of 
the  whole.  If,  when  you  read  that  "the  first 
century  of  the  Christian  era  was  characterized 
by  a  series  of  execrable  emperors,  who  by 
their  extravagance  and  their  crimes  were  sow- 
ing the  seeds  for  the  dissolution  of  the  em- 


HOW    TO    USE    THEM.  59 

pire,"  you  have  no  knowledge  of  the  details ; 
these  words  alone  convey  very  little  meaning 
to  your  mind,  and  are  soon  forgotten.  But  if 
this  sentence  brings  before  you  Claudius  and 
Caligula,  and  the  martyred  Christians  flaming 
in  tarred  sheets  as  torches  to  light  Nero's 
pleasure-gardens,  it  matters  little  if  you  have 
forgotten  the  exact  succession,  or  the  dates  of 
each  emperor's  reign.  Dates  are  great  bug- 
bears. Some  people  remember  them  naturally ; 
for  others,  it  is  hard  and  unsatisfactory  work. 
But  almost  any  one  can  remember  the  century 
in  which  an  important  event  took  place.  There 
are  only  eighteen  since  the  Christian  era ;  that 
is  not  very  formidable.  Group  events  together 
in  centuries,  and  characterize  each  one  by 
some  memorable  facts,  or  men,  or  discoveries. 
Make  little  lists  of  the  representative  great 
things  in  art,  war,  literature,  science.  The 
making  of  the  lists  will  help  you  to  remember 
them ;  looking  them  over  afterward  will  refresh 
your  memory  without  forcing  you  to  read 
long  chapters  again. 

But  somebody  asks,  "  If  you  go    reading   here 
and    there   in   this   manner,    how  do    you   know 


6O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

what  books  you  want,  and  when  you  get  the 
books,  how  do  you  find  out  what  parts  you 
want  ? "  Just  as  you  do  other  things.  Look 
and  ask.  By  what  mysterious  freemasonry  does 
a  new  fashion  in  hair  dressing  spread  itself 
through  the  country  ?  "  French  twists "  break 
out  in  New  York  and  Boston.  In  a  week  a 
few  favored  heads  in  New  Haven,  Hartford, 
Springfield  and  Worcester,  are  arranged  after 
that  'fashion.  In  less  than  three  months  there 
isn't  a  young  lady  of  any  pretension  to  style 
in  any  town  in  New  England  who  would  think 
of  wearing  her  hair  in  any  other  way. 

One   girl   says    to   another : 

"  Did  you  see  Mary  New-fangle's  hair  last 
Sunday  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;   dreadfully   unbecoming,    wasn't   it  ? " 

"  Of  course ;  but  then  it  is  so  stylish.  I 
wonder  how  she  does  it." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,  but  I  got  a  good 
look  at  it,  and  I  think  I  know  how  it  goes 
up." 

So  one  retires  to  her  room,  and,  after  an 
hour's  struggle  with  hand-glass  and  hair-pins, 
comes  forth  with  that  satisfying  consciousness 


HOW    TO    USE   THEM.  6 1 

of  being  in  the  latest  style,  which,  according 
to  Emerson,  "  gives  a  feeling  of  inward  tran- 
quil ity  which  religion  is  powerless  to  bestow." 
The  other  girl,  on  the  strength  of  a  greater 
intimacy  with  the  fortunate  possessor  of  the 
"French  twist,"  makes  her  a  morning  call. 
Naturally  she  speaks  of  the  becomingness  of 
the  new  style,  and  asks  her  how  she  does  it. 
Of  course  she  gives  the  required  information, 
and  if  she  is  good-natured,  takes  her  friend 
into  her  own  room  and  does  it  for  her.  Some 
of  the  thought  and  ingenuity  required  to  fol- 
low the  fashions  would  help  to  teach  us  what 
books  we  wanted. 

Ghnce  over  the  heads  of  chapters  and  table 
of  contents,  and  you  will  soon  find  whether 
what  you  are  looking  for  is  in  that  book  or 
not.  Ask  people  who  know  where  you  can 
find  the  best  reading  on  such  and  such  a 
topic  or  epoch.  The  faculty  of  picking  up  in- 
formation is  a  very  valuable  one,  and  like  the 
skilful  playing  of  the  chromatic  scale  can  only 
be  cultivated  by  practice. 

Reading  in  this  way,  too,  soon  awakens  the 
desire  to  own  books,  as  it  shows  the  need  of  having 


62  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

at  hand  a  library  —  even  if  only  a  small  one  —  ot 
well-selected  and  standard  books  of  reference.  To 
wait  till  you  can  get  the  book  you  want  from  the 
public  library  is  often  to  wait  till  your  interest  in 
that  particular  matter  has  gone. 

How  strange  when  books  are  such  a  "fountain 
of  delight "  that  people  gratify  almost  every  other 
want  first !  How  few  young  people  of  moderate" 
means  in  furnishing  a  house  make  any  reasonable 
provision  for  the  buying  of  books  !  Yet  often 
the  difference  between  ingrain  and  Brussels  car- 
pets, common  and  cut  glass,  plain  shades  and  lace 
curtains  would  be  sufficient  to  make  a  good  begin- 
ning for  a  library.  And  if  the  books  were  properly 
selected,  and  not  of  the  kind  that  "  cometh  up  as  a 
flower,"  they  would  be  as  good  as  new  long  after 
the  carpets  have  faded  and  the  dainty  goblets  gone 
to  the  ash-heaps.  When  people  know  how  to  buy 
books  there  is  nothing  of  which  they  can  get  so 
much  for  their  money.  Almost  any  family  that 
can  afford  a  piano  could  by  a  little  self-denial  have 
some  good  encyclopaedia,  and  what  an  amount  of 
information  and  culture  may  be  gained  by  both, 
parents  and  children  by  a  habit  of  constant  refer- 
ence to  it !  Yet  many  people  who  consider  them- 


HOW    TO    USE    THEM.  6$ 

selves  cultivated  and  intelligent,  who  perhaps  wear 
velvet  cloaks  and  costly  jewelry,  keep  horses  and 
smoke  expensive  cigars,  content  themselves  with  a 
showy  edition  of  Dickens,  half  a  dozen  "  blue-and- 
gold  "  poets,  and  a  few  miscellaneous  books,  and 
call  it  a  library. 

If  you  wish  to  get  the  full  good  of  your  read- 
ing cultivate  the  habit  of  writing  something,  either 
out  of,  or  about,  the  books  you  read.  You 
would  probably  wish  to  make  a  brief  synopsis 
of  the  important  facts  and  arguments  in  his- 
torical and  scientific  works.  Of  many  other 
books  it  would  be  most  natural  to  write  a  few 
words  concerning  the  general  impression  the 
book  makes  on  your  mind,  whether  you  like  it 
or  not,  and  the  reasons  for  your  opinions.  It 
cultivates  one's  taste  and  judgment,  as  well  as 
assists  the  memory.  It  helps,  too,  to  get  one's 
ideas  about  the  books  into  some  tangible  shape. 

I  have  a  lady  friend  —  by  no  means  a  lady 
of  leisure  —  who  for  several  years  has  made  it 
a  rule  to  write  in  a  small  blank  book  kept  for 
that  purpose  a  few  words  about  every  book  she 
reads  —  sometimes  an  abstract  of  the  principal 
points  in  the  volume.  A  habit  of  frequent  re- 


64  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

currence  to  that  little  note  book  keeps  her  read- 
ing fresh  in  her  mind.  This  is  not  formidable 
business  if  you  do  not  attempt  anything  too 
elaborate.  And  even  if  it  should  take  time  and 
patiei.ce  you  may  find  your  reward  in  the  re- 
flection that  a  few  good  books  remembered  are 
worth  twenty  poor  ones  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

WHY   WE   WANT   THEM. 

AFTER  all  this  is  the  most  important  ques- 
tion, for  unless  we  know  why  we  want  this 
time,  we  will  neither  try  to  save  it,  nor  if  we 
save  it,  care  how  we  use  it. 

There  is  a  large  class  of  women  whose  one 
ambition  is,  "  to  have  things  like  other  people ; " 
i.  e.,  to  have  them  a  little  better  than  their 
neighbors,  or  in  the  "  latest  style."  Beyond  that, 
there  is  nothing  more  to  wish  for,  and  any  one 
who  bestows  much  time  or  thought  on  any- 
thing else  is  a  puzzle  to  them.  You  remember 
them  as  schoolgirls  with  what  enthusiasm  they 
would  tell  you  all  about  the  latest  fashions,  and 
how  sweetly  amiable  they  would  look  as  they 
missed  the  simplest  question  in  their  lessons. 

Besides  these,  there  are  other  women  who  do 
not  care  for  reading  and  study.  Not  because 
6s 


66  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

they  are  frivolous,  but,  as   they  say  themselves, 
"they  haven't  the  head  for  it."     They  agree  with 
George  the  Fourth.    "What,  what,  what  —  did  you 
ever  see  such  stuff  as  Shakespeare  ?  "     Of  course 
this  is  a  misfortune,  not  a  fault,  any  more  than 
color-blindness   or   deafness   is.      But   they   must 
not  try  to  limit  other  women  to  their  own  nar- 
row  horizon.     Neither  of  these  two  classes  will 
be   interested   in   the   answer   to  our  question  — 
why  we  want  more  time  for  reading  and  study  ? 
But   there   are   a  great  many   women   who   con- 
scientiously think  that  they  must  give    up  their 
lives  to  sewing  and  housework,  and  feel  grieved 
and   disappointed    that   they   have  so   little   time 
for    anything    else.      To    read    an    hour    a   day 
seems   to  them    as   impossible   as   to   climb    the 
Himalayas,  and  they  have   been   so   educated  by 
years   of    precept    and   habit,    that   they   actually 
feel   as    if    they   were    doing    something   wrong 
when   they   sit   down    deliberately   with    a   book. 
To  be  sure,  sometimes,  they  are  carried  away 
by  the   whirlwind    of    a    fascinating    novel,    but 
they   feel,  all   the  time,  an   uneasy  sense  of   the 
necessary    after     repentance.      Some    of     these 
women,    however,  will    attempt    any   marvel    of 


WHY    WE    WANT    THEM.  6? 

fancy  work  or  dressmaking,  and  "  take  no  note 
of  time."  Now  if  these  conscientious,  hard- 
working women  could  only  be  convinced  that 
their  usefulness  would  be  increased  by  reading, 
they  would  find  time  even  among  their  many 
duties,  for  that  which  would  help  them  to  do 
more  and  better  work. 

Let  us  see  if  such  is  not  the  case,  and  if 
it  is,  will  it  not  answer  our  question,  Why  ? 
And  we  will  begin  with  the  very  lowest  and 
most  selfish  reason  of  all,  viz :  Reading  rests 
its,  physically  and  mentally.  Said  an  overworked 
careworn  woman,  "  It  does  me  good  sometimes 
to  forget  about  my  work  for  a  little  while.  If 
I  can  put  it  out  of  my  mind  I  can  go  back 
to  it,  and  do  twice  as  much  as  I  could  if  I 
kept  on  when  I  was  all  tired  out."  Overwork 
of  any  kind  unfits  us  for  our  duties,  as  we 
know  by  sad  experience.  How  wretched  those 
days  are  when  we  get  up  in  the  morning  with 
every  muscle  aching  and  every  nerve  on  edge  ; 
when  a  child's  voice  asking  a  question  irritates 
us  like  a  blow  in  the  face;  when  we  feel  "as 
if  we  couldn't  speak  a  civil  word  to  anybody," 
all  because  we  "overdid"  house-cleaning,  or 


68  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

sewing,  or  preserving,  the  day  before  !  This  work 
may  have  seemed  necessary.  But  this  is  only 
an  additional  reason  for  us  to  be  economical 
of  our  physical  strength.  Now  after  some  such 
day,  draw  up  your  lounge  where  the  light  will 
fall  just  over  your  shoulder,  arrange  your  sofa 
pillows  so  that  your  head  will  be  erect,  while 
your  spine  and  shoulders  are  supported,  lift  up 
your  feet  on  the  lounge  and  take  your  book. 
Try  reading  an  hour  in  this  position,  and  see  if 
the  rest  and  change  of  thought  do  not  lighten 
your  burdens,  and  make  you  forget  your  weari- 
ness. 

The  lawyer  needs  to  get  away  from  his  briefs, 
the  merchant  from  his  ledgers,  the  mechanic 
from  his  shop.  A  man  would  soon  go  crazy 
who  could  not  turn  the  key  upon  these  things, 
however  much  his  mind  may  revert  to  them 
from  a  distance.  The  men  who  have  combined 
great  power  of  work  with  great  power  of  endur- 
ance, have  been  those  who  could  enter  heartily 
into  something  else  when  the  working  day  was 
done.  But  a  mother  with  young  children  cannot 
get  away  from  her  work.  It  wakes  up  in  the 
morning  with  her  (generally  before  she  does),  and 


WHY    WE    WANT   THEM.  69 

goes  to  bed  beside  her  at  night.  If  she  leaves 
the  children  it  is  only  for  a  short  time,  and 
that  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  direful  accidents 
to  clothes,  if  not  of  life  or  limb.  But  she  can 
sit,  with  her  cares  and  comforts  asleep  up-stairs, 
or  maybe  at  her  feet,  and 

Gloriously   forget  herself  to  plunge 
Soul-forward,   headlong   into  a  book's   profound, 
Impassioned  for  its  beauty,  and  salt  of  truth. 

As  much  as  she  needs  to  read  for  the  sake 
of  her  children,  she  sometimes  also  needs  to 
read  that  she  may  forget  for  the  time  being 
that  she  has  any  children. 

This  habit  of  reading  will  also  be  of  great 
comfort  to  us  if  our  lives  are  quiet  and  com- 
monplace. We  shall  not  fret,  and  chafe,  and 
long  after  excitement  and  gayety  if  we  are 
shut  up  in  solitary  farmhouses  or  in  unfre- 
quented and  unfashionable  by-streets.  We  shall 
not  be  "driven  to  go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock, 
evening  after  evening,  because  there  is  nothing 
going  on,"  like  some  uninteresting  young  ladies 
I  once  heard  of,  nor  dread  winter  evenings  and 
rainy  days,  for  we  shall  have  plenty  of  company. 


7O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

\ 

But  laying  aside  the  thought  of  our  own  rest 
and  comfort,  let  us  look  a  little  higher.  For 
the  cJiildreri s  sake  ive  must  make  the  most  of 
ourselves.  Many  an  unselfish  mother  has  said, 
"  Oh,  I  cannot  take  all  this  time,  there  are  so 
many  things  to  do  for  the  children."  She  does 
not  realize  that  she  may  do  more  for  them  in 
the  end  by  cultivating  herself  than  if  she  spends 
all  her  time  on  clothes  and  cooking.  A  gener- 
osity which  makes  the  recipient  weak  or  selfish 
is  not  a  blessing,  but  a  curse.  Have  you  not 
seen  grown-up  sons  who  snubbed  their  mother's 
opinions  in  the  same  breath  with  which  they 
called  her  to  bring  their  slippers  ?  The  meek 
little  woman  has  "  trotted  around "  to  wait  on 
them  so  long  that  they  have  come  to  think 
that  that  is  all  she  is  good  for.  Their  sisters 
keep  "  Ma "  in  the  background  because  she 
"hasn't  a  bit  of  style,"  and  is  "so  unculti- 
vated," forgetting  that  she  has  always  worn 
shabby  clothes  that  they  might  wear  fine  ones  ; 
that  her  hands  have  become  horny  with  hard 
work  that  theirs  might  be  kept  soft  and  white 
for  the  piano,  and  that  she  has  denied  herself 
books  and  leisure  that  they  might  have  both. 


WHY   WE    WANT    THEM.  /I 

And  there  are  other  children,  too  noble  for 
such  base  ingratitude,  who  feel  a  keen,  though 
secret  sense  of  loss  as  they  kiss  the  dear 
withered  cheek  and  think  how  much  more  of 
a  woman  "  mother "  might  have  been  if  she 
had  not  shut  herself  away  from  the  culture 
and  sweet  companionship  of  books. 

The  love  even  of  husband  and  children  to 
be  permanent  and  valuable,  must  be  founded 
on  genuine  respect  for  character.  Every  mother 
has  a  right  to  time  for  mental  and  spiritual 
development  as  really  as  she  has  a  right  to 
sunshine  and  air,  and  to  food  and  sleep.  She 
cannot  exist  physically  without » the  one ;  she 
cannot  grow  mentally  and  spiritually  without  the 
other.  If  she  throws  herself  so  energetically 
into  her  duties  as  seamstress  and  nursery-maid 
that  she  has  no  time  nor  strength  for  any- 
thing else,  ought  she  to  be  disappointed  if  in 
the  end  she  receives  only  seamstress  and 
nursery-maid's  wages  ?  Is  there  a  more  beau- 
tiful sight  than  a  circle  of  grown-up  sons  and 
daughters  with  their  mother  as  the  chief  cen- 
tre, not  merely  of  physical  comfort,  but  of  in 
tellectual  and  spiritual  companionship  ? 


72  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

Where  the  tall  son,  preparing  his  Commence- 
ment essay,  reads  the  first  draft  of  it  to  his 
mother,  being  sure  that  her  intelligent  criti- 
cism will  be  helpful  and  stimulating ;  where 
the  daughters  select  the  choicest  bits  from  the 
new  books  to  read  to  her,  because  "  mother 
always  enjoys  the  best  things;"  and  when  the 
schoolgirl,  lost  in  the  bewildering  maze  of 
mediaeval  history,  or  mental  philosophy,  instinct- 
ively thinks,  "  I'll  ask  mother  about  this.  If 
she  don't  know  herself,  she'll  know  what  book 
will  help  me  out." 

She  must  have  brains,  you  say,  to  be  this. 
Of  course  she  must,  and  most  women  do  have 
more  brains  than  they  get  credit  for ;  the  trou- 
ble being  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  use 
or  cultivate  what  they  have.  She  must  love 
her  reading  and  study,  that  she  may  have  en- 
thusiasm to  arouse,  and  tact  to  sustain,  the 
children's  interest  in  these  things.  If  she  is 
musical,  the  practice  hour  under  her  supervision 
will  be  no  longer  a  distasteful  drudgery.  If 
she  loves  history,  mamma's  true  stories  of  Col- 
umbus and  Arthur,  Hannibal  and  Alexander, 
will  be  better  than  fairy  tales.  If.  she  is  fond 


WHY   WE    WANT   THEM.  73 

of  poetry,  the  children  will  listen  entranced  to 
the  "Lady  of  the  Lake,"  and  the  "May  Queen," 
to  the  melody  of  Longfellow,  and  the  ballads 
of  Whittier.  If  she  enjoys  scientific  studies, 
she  will  set  the  boys,  armed  with  hammers  and 
baskets,  to  turning  over  every  stone-wall  in  the 
country,  not  after  chipmunks,  but  after  minerals 
for  their  cabinets.  They  will  shut  up  and  feed 
great  ugly  caterpillars,  and  eagerly  watch  them 
turn  into  gorgeous  moths  and  butterflies.  The 
girls  will  come  to  her  with  flowers  from  every 
ramble,  as  I  saw  a  four-year-old  "tot"  last 
spring  go  running  to  her  mother  with  a  little 
basketful  of  dandelions  and  "pussy-willows,"  to 
ask  for  an  "atomy"  (botany)  lesson. 

Charles  Kingsley's  mother  "was  full  of  poetry 
and  enthusiasm,  with  a  love  for  science  and 
literature."  If  Lord  Byron's  mother  had  been 
a  Monica,  his  fate  and  influence  might  have 
been  very  different.  Lord  Macaulay  says,  "  Affec- 
tion has  at  least  as  much  to  do  as  vanity 
with  my  wish  to  distinguish  myself.  This  I  owe 
to  my  dear  mother,  and  to  the  interest  which 
she  always  took  in  my  childish  successes." 

In  contrast  to  all  this,  is  it   not  pitiful  to  see 


74  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

a  mother  made  of  such  pallid,  neutral  stuff, 
that  she  is  only  a  negative  element  in  the  for- 
mation of  her  children's  characters  ?  Yet  some 
of  the  zeal  which  goes  into  the  latest  fash- 
ions or  into  pie-crust  would  give  her  time 
enough  for  these  other  things.  Remember  that 
to  every  child  (till  he  learns  better)  his  mother 
is  the  ideal  of  everything  that  is  noble  and 
beautiful  in  womanhood.  Happy  the  child  who 
never  is,  because  he  never  needs  to  be  disen- 
chanted !  And  on  the  other  hand,  as  Ritcher 
says,  "  Unhappy  the  man  whose  mother  does 
not  make  all  mothers  interesting." 

A  mother  needs  to  read,  also  that  she  may 
learn  the  best  methods  of  managing  and  edu- 
cating her  children.  Now  laugh  and  say  some- 
thing about  "old  maid's  theories."  This  is 
the  place  for  it.  It  is  true  that  one  great- 
hearted, quick-witted  mother  without  a  "  speck  " 
of  theory,  but  rich  with  the  wisdom  of  experi- 
ence, will  do  better  in  bringing  up  a  family  than 
twenty  old  maids  stuffed  full  of  all  the  theories  ever 
made  or  books  ever  written.  Yet  such  a  mother 
could  not  read  Abbot's  "  Gentle  Measures  with 
the  Young,"  or  Harriet  Martineau's  "  Household 


WHY    WE    WANT    THOL  75 

Education,"  without  being  helped  at  least  to  realize 
something  of  the  importance  of  her  work.  But 
she  must  have  time  to  think  as  well  as  to  read. 
She  needs  to  look  carefully  at  each  child's  peculiar 
disposition,  and  to  think  about  her  management  of 
it.  She  must  ask  herself  whether  she  is  patient 
enough  with  the  heedless,  firm  enough  with  the 
rebellious,  stimulating  enough  with  the  indolent, 
thoughtful  enough  for  the  sensitive,  and  winning 
and  tender  enough  with  the  reserved  and  undemon- 
strative. It  is  a  fearful  thing  for  a  mother  to  be 
so  absorbed  in  work  of  any  kind  as  not  to  be 
acquainted  with  her  own  children,  for  sometimes 
her  sins  of  omission  are  more  fatal  than  Luer  sins  of 
commission. 

Another  reason  why  a  mother  should  read  is 
that  she  may  direct  the  children  in  the  choice  of 
books.  It  is  as  important  in  these  days  to  teach 
our  children  what  to  read  as  how  to  read,  else  they 
are  at  the  mercy  of  a  flood  of  trashy  fictitious  litera- 
ture. Hear  what  a  New  York  librarian  says : 
"  You  would  be  surprised  to  know  the  number  of 
books  young  girls  manage  to  get  through  with.  I 
have  an  unceasing  call  for  works  of  fiction.  Some 
of  these  young  misses  average  two  or  three  books 


76  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

a  day,  and  the  more  '  love '  the  better  they  like 
them."  But  how  can  a  mother  direct  her  children 
if  she  seldom  reads  at  all,  and  then  nothing  better 
than  such  books  ?  How  can  she  educate  unless 
she  herself  has  been  educated,  by  careful  reading 
into  an  appreciation  of  what  is  really  good  ?  A 
well-read  mother  can  direct  her  boy  to  adventures 
as  marvellous  as  those  of  the  cheapest  fiction,  in  the 
chapters  of  Doctor  Kane  and  Doctor  Livingstone, 
to  stories  as  interesting  in  Jacob  Abbott's  histories 
of  kings  and  heroes.  Her  girls  need  not  devour 
Miss  Braddon's  and  Mrs.  Southworth's  novels, 
while  there  is  Mrs.  Muloch-Craik,  and  Mrs.  Charles, 
and  Mrs.  Whitney.  Children  are  generally  glad 
of  suggestions  about,  and  interest  in,  their  reading, 
if  it  is  only  begun  soon  enough,  and  done  in  the 
right  way. 

"  But  how  can  I  do  all  this,"  asks  a  young 
mother  despairingly,  "  with  this  little  baby  in  my 
arms  ?  "  Comfort  yourself,  my  dear  woman  ;  he 
will  not  be  a  baby  in  your  arms  always,  and  even  if 
brothers  and  sisters  take  his  place,  they  must  grow 
up,  too.  For  a  few  years  they  will  fill  up  the  most 
of  your  time.  But  if  you  only  realize  that  the 
quality  of  your  character  is  to  enter  into  the 


WHY   WE   WANT   THEM.  77 

make-up  of  his  mental  and  moral  status,  as  truly  as 
the  quality  of  his  oatmeal  porridge  is  to  enter  into 
his  bodily  substance,  you  will  not  put  all  your 
energies  into  the  care  of  the  one,  and  leave  none 
for  the  cultivation  of  the  other. 

A  woman  may  do  all  this  for  the  sake  of  her 
husband,  as  well  as  for  her  children.  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  said  of  his  wife,  "  To  her  I  owe  what- 
ever I  am  ;  and  to  her  whatever  I  shall  be."  We 
need  only  to  mention  the  names  of  Lady  Augusta 
Stanley,  Mrs.  Disraeli,  Mrs.  Sevvard,  Mrs.  Mill, 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Kingsley,  to  understand  what  a 
help  a  cultivated  and  intelligent  wife  may  be  to  a 
husband  in  public  life.  A  gentleman  who  stands 
at  the  very  height  of  his  profession  said  only  a  few 
months  ago,  of  a  friend  just  called  to  one  of  the 
most  important  and  honorable  places  in  this  coun- 
try, "  He  is  thoroughly  a  self-made  man,  except  in 
so  far  as  his  wife  has  given  him  the  assistance  of  an 
excellent  mind." 

But  you  say  at  once,  young  men  are  afraid  of 
"superior  girls;"  they  do  not  want  "gifted" 
wives.  That  is  because  they  share  in  the  popular 
delusion  that  a  "  gifted  woman  "  always  is  a  being 
with  indefinite  back  hair  and  inky  fingers  ;  whose 


78  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

table  is  set  with  sour  bread  and  sticky  crockery  ; 
and  whose  children  roam  uncombed  and  untaught, 
a  terror  to  the  neighbors.  But  it  is  a  delusion, 
after  all ;  for  there  have  been  women  who  were 
"domestic,"  and  yet  they  were  not  entirely 
absorbed  in  the  quality  of  their  soft  gingerbread,  or 
the  heels  of  their  children's  winter  stockings.  In 
a  New  England  village  lives  a  bright-eyed  little 
woman,  whose  excellent  classical  education  is  of 
practical  assistance  to  her  husband.  He  is  a 
teacher.  She  corrects  the  Latin  exercises  of  his 
classes,  does  all  her  own  housework,  and  takes  the 
entire  care  of  her  little  child,  and  does  it  all  well. 
Her  house  is  bright  with  plants  and  flowers,  and 
"like  wax-work"  in  its  beautitul  neatness  ;  she  is 
always  tastefully  dressed ;  her  child  has  that  unmis- 
takably air  of  being  happily  and  tenderly  cared  for, 
and  her  Latin  is  not  like  Aurora  Leigl\'s  Greek  — 

*    »    *    lady's  Greek, 
Without  the  accents. 

A  woman's  influence  and  work  should  radiate 
beyond  the  circle  of  home  life.  Here,  at  once,  we 
stumble  involuntarily  upon  a  most  perplexing  dis- 


WHY    WE    WANT   THEM.  79 

cussion.  We  have  had  the  question  of  woman 
suffrage  dinned  into  our  ears  with  such  an  un- 
ceasing clatter  that  some  women  have  a  latent 
suspicion  that  everything  said  about  lifting  them 
above  their  common-place  routine  is  a  part  of  some 
secret  plot  to  take  them,  willy-nilly,  from  their 
quiet  homes,  and  make  them  presidents  or  gov- 
ernors, or  at  least  judges  of  police  courts  at 
once. 

Women  of  quite  ordinary  capacity  will  say, 
perhaps  holding  in  their  hands  the  fashion-book 
they  have  been  diligently  studying  for  half  an 
hour,  "  Well,  I  like  these  other  things  very 
much  ;  but,  after  all,  you  know  a  '  woman's 
proper  sphere'  is  among  domestic  duties"  — 
words  as  true  as  mathematics,  unless  made  an 
excuse  for  indolent  lapsing  into  stupidity. 

It  is  quite  pertinent  to  ask,  What  is  woman's 
proper  sphere  ?  Every  true  woman  instinctively 
feels,  whether  she  confesses  it  or  not,  that  a 
woman's  happiest  place  is,  as  Mrs.  Browning 
says,  in 

The  sweet,  safe  corner  of  the  household  fire, 
Behind  the  heads  of  children. 


8O  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

t* 

Such  a  home  is  almost  the  ideal  of  almost 
every  girlish  heart.  But  there  are  some  who 
never  have  it.  To  enter  upon  life  with  the 
desire  to  get  such  a  home,  is  to  defeat  that 
very  purpose,  or  to  obtain  in  its  place  a  mis- 
erable substitute ;  for,  like  every  other  gracious 
gift,  it  comes,  not  by  seeking,  but  in  its  own 
natural  way.*  With  some  the  bright  vision 
of  married  life  has  faded  in  its  realization  into 
a  cruel  mockery.  With  others  the  black  pall 
of  bereavement  has  shut  the  very  sunshine  out 
of  the  heavens.  In  other  homes,  the  woman's 
heart  yearns  for  the  little  ones  who  have  never 
come,  and  she  looks  forward  to  a  future  where 
her  name  will  always  be  written  "childless." 
What  shall  these  do  ?  Because  the  heart  is 
desolate  and  the  hands  are  empty,  must  the 
heads  be  empty,  too  ?  Let  us  not  deceive  our- 
selves. Whether  a  woman  works  in  the  shelter 

*  I  think  those  married  women  who  indiscriminately  urge 
their  acquaintance  to  marry,  much  to  blame.  For  my  part,  I  can 
only  say  with  deeper  sincerity  and  fuller  significance  what  I  have 
always  said  in  theory :  Wait  God's  will.  —  From  a  letter  of  Char- 
lotte Bronte,  in  Reid's  Life. 


WHY   WE    WANT   THEM.  8 1 

of  her  own  home  or  outside  of  it,  she  has 
duties  to  society  and  an  influence  over  it,  which 
she  cannot  avoid.  How  good  or  how  broad 
that  influence  may  be,  depends  upon  her  in- 
tellectual and  moral  culture.  We  must  not  be 
hindered  from  any  possible  attainment  by  the 
fear  that  we  shall  be  suspected  of  sympathy  in 
a  movement  which  so  many  of  us  regard  with 
distrust.  Just  as  some  women  drag  their  long 
dresses  through  the  dirt,  for  fear  if  they  shorten 
them  that  terrible  somebody,  of  whom  we  are 
all  so  afraid,  will  think  they  want  to  wear  the 
hideous  "  Bloomers." 

Whatever  the  past  may  have  been,  we  know 
that  in  the  future  woman  can  and  will  take 
any  place  she  is  competent  to  fill.  She  ought 
to  wish  110  other.  It  is  of  little  use  for  women 
to  whine  over  their  "wrongs,"  or  to  storm  and 
scold  at  "man's  tyranny."  Men  are  quite  as 
willing  to  give  us  a  place  in  the  ranks  of  the 
world's  workers  as  we  are  to  earn  it,  or  to  let 
other  women  earn  it,  in  peace  and  comfort.  It 
is  well  to  remember  that  whatever  has  helped 
to  elevate  woman  to  her  present  position  has 
been  done  by  those  brave  spirits  who  have  res- 


82  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

olutely  wrought  at  their  chosen  labor,  ignoring 
the  petty  ostracism  of  their  next-door  neighbors, 
who  called  them  "singular,"  "eccentric,"  or 
"strong-minded."  And  it  takes  some  courage 
to  bear  just  that,  especially  if  the  woman  is 
also  sensitive  and  longs  for  the  approbation  of 
others  to  supplement  the  approval  of  her  own 
conscience.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  how 
much  more  comfortable  it  must  be  for  ordinary 
mortals  to  have  the  cordial  sympathy  of  the 
people  one  must  see  every  day,  than  to  meet 
chilling  indifference  or  downright  opposition 
from  them,  even  if  a  distant  public  applaud  — 
especially  if,  as  is  usually  the  case,  the  public 
praise  brings  with  it  the  public  right  of  criticism  ? 
No,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  judge  harshly  those 
who  are  called  to  work  outside  of  the  beaten  paths. 
We  do  not  know  how  the  woman's  nature  has 
drawn  back,  how  the  woman's  voice  has  pleaded, 
"  Who  am  I,  that  thou  shouldst  put  such  a 
word  into  my  mouth?"  how,  perhaps,  the  hin- 
drances of  home  life  have  been  stricken  away  one 
by  one,  till  she  is  fain  obliged  to  listen  to  the 
voice,  either  from  within  or  without,  which  calls 
her  to  her  task.  When  a  woman  has  excep- 


WHY    WE    WANT    THEM.  83 

tional    gifts,    she    has    probably   an    exceptional 
work  in  the  world  to  do,  and  ought  to  do  it. 

Let  the  suffrage  question  take  care  of  itself. 
It  sinks  into  insignificance  beside  the  more  im- 
portant and  practical  one  :  Are  American  women 
doing  the  most  that  is  possible  with  the  oppor- 
tunities they  now  possess  ? 


LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER. —  I. 


BABY'S  SLEEP. 


MY  DEAR :     I   was   greatly  interested    in 

your  letter,  especially  in  what  you  had  to  say 
about  the  "new  baby."  But  I  hardly  know 
whether  to  be  more  amused  or  flattered  at 
the  idea  of  your  asking  me  for  advice  about 
managing  him — me,  who  consider  myself  an 
inexperienced  young  mother,  too.  Why,  Mary 
is  only  six  years  old  now.  Yet  six  years' 
experience  is  better  than  six  months,  and  there 
may  be  something  in  your  idea,  that  the  moth- 
ers of  grown-up  children  forget  a  little  just 
what  they  did  do,  when  their  children  were 
"wee  babies."  And,  to  tell  you  the  truth  — 
to  whisper  it  between  you  and  me  —  I  don't 
like  to  ask  these  old  experienced  housekeepers 
and  mothers  many  questions.  There  is  such  a 
flavor  of  superior  wisdom  in  her  answers ; 

84 


BABY'S  SLEEP.  85 

their  "  doxy "  is  so  unmistakably  orthodoxy,  and 
everybody  else's  "  doxy  "  heterodoxy ;  and  they 
don't  agree  among  themselves,  either.  Mrs. 
Superior  Wisdom  will  tell  you  that  she  always 
managed  her  babies  this  way,  while  Mrs.  Self- 
complacency  declares  that  she  treated  hers 
diametrically  opposite,  and  "my  children,"  she 
says,  with  an  unanswerable  sniff  and  toss 
of  the  head,  "  turned  out  about  as  well  as 
most  people's  children,  after  all." 

The  great  fact  which  we  are  all  apt  to  for- 
get in  talking  about  the  management  of  chil- 
dren is,  that  no  two  jpabies  are  just  alike, 
and  what  suits  one  case  perfectly,  will  work 
mischief  in  another.  As  Mrs.  Partington  says : 
"There's  as  much  difference  in  folks  as  in 
anybody,"  and  babies  are  only  "folks"  just 
started. 

You  remember  that  old  fellow  we  studied 
about  at  school,  with  his  iron  bedstead,  who 
cut  off  the  heads  of  those  who  were  too 
long,  and  stretched  out  those  who  were  too 
short  ?  Well,  don't  try  to  bring  up  your  baby 
after  that  fashion.  It  is  worse  than  useless  to 
have  a  set  of  inexorable  rules.  The  rules 


86  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

should  be  made   to   fit   the   baby,  not   the   baby 
the   rules. 

In  the  simple  matter  of  putting  baby  to 
sleep,  Mrs.  Superior  Wisdom  will  say  in  her 
lofty  way :  "  I  don't  believe  in  rocking  or  cud- 
dling babies  at  all ;  I  always  used  to  lay 
mine  right  down  on  the  bed,  and  go  away 
and  leave  them.  If  they  cried,  they  might  cry 
till  they  got  tired."  Now,  Mrs.  Superior  Wis- 
dom's children  are  what  grandmother  Badger 
calls  "white,  still  children  like  dipped  candles 
by  natur',"  with  no  more  nerves  than  an 
oyster ;  of  course  they  would  lie  still  and  go 
to  sleep,  they  didn't  want  anything  better. 
But  with  a  child  who  inherits  a  nervous  tem- 
perament, who  is  so  wide  awake  all  over,  that 
it  is  a  slow  process  for  muscles,  and  nerves, 
and  brain  to  quiet  themselves,  sleep  must  be 
coaxed.  I  know  all  about  it.  Didn't  I  listen 
to  Mrs.  S.  W.,  and  out  of  the  depths  of  my 
conscientious  desire  to  be  a  Spartan,  sensible 
mother,  put  my  oldest  baby  to  all  manner  of 
unnecessary  misery  ?  She  was  a  nervous,  excita- 
ble child  —  now,  if  over-tired,  will  lie  broad 
awake  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  middle  of 


BABY'S  SLEEP.  87 

the  night  —  and  I  let  her  cry  herself  to  sleep, 
well,  more  times  than  I  shall  another,  if  I 
have  forty.  And  her  poor  father  was  insane 
enough  to  think  he  must  "spat"  her  to  make 
her  stop  crying  and  go  to  sleep.  "It  was  noth- 
ing but  temper,"  he  said,  while  I,  poor  mis- 
guided wretch,  aided  and  abetted  him  !  There 
ought  to  be  a  petition  in  the  Litany — "From 
all  our  negligences  and  ignorances,  Good  Lord, 
deliver  our  children  !  " 

And  then  by  way  of  contrast,  is  my  baby 
a  serene  little  specimen  of  perfect  health,  who 
will  be  put  into  her  bed  wide  awake,  and 
settle  herself  down  in  the  pillows  just  as  you 
or  I  would.  But  let  me  warn  you  against 
rockers.  I  have  brought  up  two  in  a  rocking- 
cradle,  and  one  without,  and  I  am  decidedly 
"  anti-rockers."  You  may  say,  that  you  don't 
rock  the  baby  much,  only  "jog"  him  a  little 
to  keep  him  asleep.  In  a  short  time  the 
young  tyrant  rather  likes  the  "jogging"  process 
and  keeps  awake  to  be  rocked,  and  you  won- 
der why  the  baby  don't  sleep  nights.  He 
wants  to  be  rocked  as  in  the  day-time.  "  But 
how  do  you  get  them  to  sleep  ? "  you  ask. 


88  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

First,  see  that  they  are  well-fed  —  a  half- 
satisfied  stomach  is  a  sure  enemy  to  repose  — 
and  warmly  wrapped  up,  especially  that  the 
feet  are  warm,  not  hot  or  perspiring,  and  that 
the  room  is  rather  cool  and  darkened  a  little. 
Their  brains  and  eyes  need  darkness  just  as 
ours  do,  and  what  refreshment  do  we  get 
from  sleeping  with  sunshine  or  lamp-light  shin- 
ing right  into  our  faces  ?  If  it  is  evening,  and 
you  use  your  sleeping-room  for  your  sitting  and 
sewing-room,  be  sure  that  the  air  you've 
breathed  all  day  is  "let  out"  and  fresh  air 
"  let  in ' '  before  baby  is  put  to  bed  for  the 
night.  Take  him  into  another  room,  close  the 
register,  and  open  the  windows  and  doors  for 
ten  minutes.  By  that  time  the  air  will  be 
thoroughly  changed.  Then  close  the  windows 
and  open  the  register,  and  in  a  short  time 
you  can  bring  the  little  one  back  into  a  fresh, 
yet  warm  room.  It  would  save  many  a  rest- 
less night,  if  this  simple  rule  were  oftener 
observed. 

All  this  granted,  the  matter  is  comparatively 
easy.  If  you  nurse  your  baby,  as  I  hope  you 
do  for  your  own  comfort  and  his  too,  he  will 


BABY'S  SLEEP.  89 

probably  drop  quietly  asleep  in  your  arms ;  if 
you  feed  him,  then  lay  him  gently  down  in 
his  crib.  If  it  is  winter,  have  the  pillow 
slightly  warmed  (not  heated  through  and  through 
before  a  hot  register,)  but  just  enough  to  take 
off  that  unpleasant  chill  of  cold  cotton.  He 
will  probably  nestle  his  little  cheek  into  it 
and  go  right  to  sleep.  If  he  cries  a  few  min- 
utes, don't  mind  it,  he  will  soon  stop ;  but, 
if  he  screams  violently  and  seems  quite  posi- 
tive in  his  own  mind  that  he  don't  like  it, 
take  him  up  and  "  cuddle  "  him  to  your  warm 
cheek  and  rock  him  a  few  minutes  (don't  walk 
with  him,  out  of  regard  to  your  own  back, 
for  he  is  growing  heavier  everyday);  "mother" 
him  a  little,  and  ten  chances  to  one,  the 
little  head  will  drop  softly  down,  the  warm 
breath  will  come  steadily  and  regularly  against 
your  neck,  and  you  will  sit  with  the  little 
form  nestled  close  and  warm.  Nobody  but  a 
mother  knows  just  how  sweet  it  is  to  have 
one's  own  baby  calmly  asleep  in  one's  arms. 

Now,  all  this  seems  like  a  great  ado  about 
nothing,  perhaps,  but  when  you  think  just  what 
their  sleep  is  to  them,  it  is  very  important. 


9O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

They  are  in  a  new  and  wonderful  existence ; 
they  are  learning  how  to  use  their  muscles,  their 
eyes,  and  their  ears  ;  their  little  brains  and  nerves 
are  taxed  severely.  They  arc  not  only  keep- 
ing up  the  waste  of  their  bodies  as  we  do, 
but  rapidly  adding  new  material,  in  a  few 
months  doubling  their  weight.  Now,  their 
sleep  renews  their  strength,  especially  keeps 
their  brains  and  nervous  systems  from  being 
overtaxed.  A  child  that  sleeps  well  is  almost 
always  a  healthy  child,  and  vice  versa. 

To  get  the  full  benefit  of  this  sleep,  they 
should  have  favorable  conditions  for  it,  warmth, 
quiet,  darkness.  They  should  not  be  permitted 
to  be  exhausted  by  excessive  crying,  nor  dis- 
turbed by  noise,  but  should  be  kept  in  a 
calm  and  comfortable  state  all  over.  Yet,  I 
have  heard  mothers  speak  approvingly  of  put- 
ting their  babies  to  sleep  in  the  same  room 
where  they  were  talking  over  their  sewing, 
and  where  other  children  were  at  play,  and 
all  the  bustle  and  stir  of  three  or  four  people, 
busy  at  various  occupations.  "  Oh !  they  get 
used  to  it,  and  it's  so  much  bother  to  take 
them  into  another  room ! "  A  mother  should 


BABY'S  SLEEP.  91 

not  ask  herself  what  is  the  easiest  way  to  get 
along  and  have  the  most  time  for  ruffling  her 
dresses  or  making  calls,  or  pickling  and  pre- 
serving, or  scrubbing  paint,  but  in  what  way 
she  can  give  her  little  one  the  best  start  in 
life,  and  insure  the  harmonious  development  of 
all  his  powers  and  faculties.  And  several 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  spent  in  health- 
ful, restful  sleep,  will  go  a  long  way  toward 
the  "  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body,"  which  you 
wish  your  child  to  possess  when  he  grows  up. 

So  you  see  there's  a  philosophy  in  baby's 
nap  as  well  as  in  some  other  things.  I  believe 
that  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  motto  applies  to 
the  case  of  children  as  well  as  to  painting 
pictures :  "  God  does  not  give  excellence  to 
man,  save  as  the  reward  of  labor."  If  you 
want  to  have  healthy,  well-developed  children,  it 
will  be  only  by  that  wise  attention  to  detail, 
which  is  the  very  soul  of  success  in  every- 
thing. 

But  I  shall  weary  you  with  my  "preachment." 
If  you  are  not  "  talked  to  death,"  this  time, 
I  may  write  you  again  about  baby's  food  and 
clothing,  and  half  a  dozen  other  things. 


LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER.  —  II. 

BABY'S  FOOD. 

MY  DEAR :  I  am  very  glad  if  my  "ad- 
vice," as  you  call  it,  was  of  any  value  to  you  ; 
and  now  you  ask  for  more  —  this  time  on  the 
subject  of  feeding  the  baby.  In  answer  to  your 
questions,  I  shall  simply  tell  you  how  I  man- 
aged mine.  My  ideas  may  not  suit  either  your 
notions  or  the  baby's.  In  that  case,  try  some- 
thing different.  If  you  only  take  common  sense 
for  your  guide,  you  won't  go  far  astray.  Oh  ! 
if  I  only  could,  wouldn't  I  found  a  Professor- 
ship of  Common  Sense  in  some  of  these  new 
female  colleges,  for  the  sake  of  the  poor  little 
babies  to  come,  whose  mothers  will  be  edu- 
cated in  everything  else  except  a  common 
sense-i-ble  way  of  doing  every-day  things.  But 
that's  a  digression ;  now  to  business. 

When    my   babies   were  four   or    five    months 
old,   I  found  it  necessary  to  feed  them  a   little. 
92 


BABY  S   FOOD.  93 

At  first,  it  was  only  sweetened  milk  and  water 
once  or  twice  a  day.  Gradually  I  increased 
the  number  of  times,  and  also  added  other 
things,  like  thoroughly  boiled  oatmeal  and  hominy, 
Graham  crackers  and  milk,  etc.,  till,  by  the 
time  they  were  a  year  old,  they  were  weaned 
without  knowing  it,  and  also  had  quite  a  "  bill 
of  fare."  I  fed  them  with  a  spoon,  too,  from 
the  beginning;  and,  though  it  waa  a  little  more 
trouble  at  first,  it  saved  me  the  necessity  of 
weaning  them  from  the  bottle.  I  also  taught 
them  to  drink  from  a  small  cup  before  they 
were  six  months  old.  They  spluttered  and  spilled 
it  at  first ;  but  it  was  so  convenient  a  way  of 
feeding  them  in  the  night,  that  it  paid  for  the 
extra  trouble,  and  they  soon  learned  to  take  it 
nicely.  And  that  reminds  me  how  grateful  they 
are  for  a  drink  of  fresh  water  occasionally.  I 
have  seen  a  fretful  baby  quieted  by  that  when 
everything  else  failed.  Ice  rubbed  on  swollen 
gums,  and  then  allowed  to  melt  in  the  mouth, 
will  afford  great  relief  to  a  teething  baby.  In 
your  choice  of  food,  be  governed  by  the  state 
of  the  system.  Some  children  need  aperient, 
others  astringent  food,  and  different  articles  at 


94  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

different  times.  By  watching  matters  yourself, 
you  can  regulate  them  perfectly  in  this  way 
without  medicine,  which  should  always  be  a  der- 
nier resort.  The  maximum  of  mother  and  the 
minimum  of  doctor,  you  know.  A  healthy 
child  ought  to  live  the  first  two  or  three  years 
of  its  life  (and  a  good  deal  longer)  without  know- 
ing what  medicine  is  for  such  purposes. 

Another  important  matter  is  to  be  regular  in 
your  times  of  feeding  them.  A  ten  months' 
old  baby  should  have  its  five  or  six  meals  a 
day  as  regularly  as  your  three.  Their  stomachs 
need  intervals  of  rest  as  much  as  "grown-up" 
ones,  and  will  become  accustomed  to  it  very 
readily.  My  little  Katie,  just  one  year  old,  has 
her  first  breakfast  soon  after  waking  —  say  be- 
fore seven  o'clock  ;  her  second  meal  before  her 
morning  nap  —  about  ten;  her  dinner  which  I 
make  the  heartiest  meal,  and  at  which  I  try 
any  new  article  of  food,  since  she  can  digest  it 
better  then  than  earlier  or  later  —  between  twelve 
and  one  ;  her  supper  at  four  or  thereabout,  and 
her  "night-cap"  about  six  —  just  before  she  is 
undressed  and  put  into  her  crib.  If  she  wakes 
late  in  the  evening,  I  give  her  a  drink  of  milk  ; 


BABY'S  FOOD.  95 

but  she  doesn't  always  want  it,  and  when  she 
is  a  little  older,  I  can  accustom  her  to  do  with- 
out it. 

The  pernicious  habits  some  children  have  of 
eating  at  odd  hours  is  enough  to  destroy  the 
best  natural  digestion.  Their  appetites  have  no 
zest  to  them,  and  they  eat  so  little  at  the  regu- 
lar meal,  that  they  soon  begin  to  crave  some- 
thing more,  and,  taking  a  little  then,  destroy 
the  real  healthy  hunger,  but  do  not  satisfy  the 
stomach's  needs ;  and  so  they  go  —  never  really 
hungry,  never  fully  satisfied.  A  healthy,  well- 
trained  child  will  seldom  ask  for  anything  between 
meals.  Yet  there  are  exceptions  to  such  a 
rule.  Let  a  child  come  down  stairs  after  a 
restless  night,  on  a  hot,  sultry  morning.  He 
feels  the  need  of  food,  yet  the  appetite  rejects 
anything  that  is  not  tempting.  Suppose  he  is 
helped,  as  children  are  in  so  many  families,  on 
the  principle  that  anything  is  good  enough  for 
a  child.  The  scorched,  tough  ends  of  the  steak, 
a  "messy"  (pardon  the  word,  but  it  fits)  spoonful 
of  warmed-up  potato  is  "  dumped  "  upon  his  plate. 
It  does  not  look  nice  to  begin  with,  nor,  to 
tell  the  truth,  does  it  taste  much  better.  He 


C/5  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A    DAY. 

takes  a  few  mouthfuls,  enough  to  satisfy  the 
immediate  hunger,  then  wants  to  run  back  to 
his  play,  always  especially  engrossing  about  meal- 
time. The  mother,  too  busy  or  careless  to  notice 
what  he  has  eaten,  lets  him  go,  and  wonders 
by  ten  o'clock  what  makes  him  so  cross  or  so 
listless.  After  such  a  breakfast,  or  rather  no 
breakfast,  by  eleven  or  twelve  o'clock  he  begins 
to  ask  for  something  to  eat.  If  the  mother 
manages  her  children  more  by  rule  than  by 
"judgment"  (as  the  cooks  say),  she  sternly  re- 
fuses. "  It  isn't  good  for  children  to  eat  between 
meals  ; "  or  she  goes  to  the  other  extreme  and 
gives  him  a  sweet  cake  or  some  candy  or  too 
much  of  something  else,  any  of  which  equally 
defeats  the  poor  stomach's  struggling  attempts 
towards  an  equilibrium. 

But  let  the  watchful  mother,  remembering  his 
light  breakfast,  at  ten  o'clock,  or  long  enough 
before  dinner  not  to  interfere  with  it,  give  him 
a  cup  of  milk  with  a  few  Graham  crackers,  or  a 
piece  of  bread  and  butter  or  a  little  fruit,  just 
enough  to  give  the  stomach  strength  to  wait 
till  the  next  proper  meal.  We  know  by  experi- 
ence that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  too 


BABY  S   FOOD.  97 

hungry  to  eat.  Now,  suppose,  instead  of  the 
breakfast  I  have  described,  he  finds  a  dish 
of  fresh  berries  with  a  bit  of  nice  bread  and 
butter  at  his  plate  (alas  !  so  few  families  know 
really  what  good  bread  and  butter  is)  or  a  saucer 
of  oatmeal  smoothly  cooked  and  rather  thin,  with 
plenty  of  milk  or  cream,  but  not  thick  and  dark 
and  pasty  as  oatmeal  is  apt  to  be.  By  the  time 
the  hearty  part  of  the  meal  is  served  he  is 
ready  to  eat  it,  or  if  not  has  taken  something 
really  nourishing,  what  there  is  of  it.  A  child's 
appetite,  needs  to  be  encouraged  at  proper  times, 
that  it  may  be  discouraged  at  improper  times. 
Take  care  that  your  children  eat  heartily  of 
wholesome  food  at  the  table,  and  they  will  not 
trouble  you  between  meals.  And  here  I  think 
sometimes  particular,  careful  parents  make  a  mis- 
take. They  are  constantly  repressing  a  child's 
appetite,  as  if  to  eat  too  much  was  one  of  the  great 
dangers.  I  sometimes  see  children  of  well-to-do 
parents  who  actually  look  under-fed,  whose 
mothers  are  constantly  saying  at  the  table, 
"  No,  you  have  had  enough.  You  *do  not  need 
any  more."  A  healthy  child's  appetite  ought 
not  to  urge  him  to  over-eating  provided,  and 


98  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

here  is  the  root  of  the  trouble,  provided  the  food 
is  of  the  right  quality.  If  a  child  is  allowed  to 
make  the  principal  part  of  his  meal  from  the 
dessert  at  dinner,  or  the  cake  and  sweetmeats 
at  supper,  he  will  eat  too  much.  Haven't  you 
been  "out  to  tea"  and  seen  children  crum- 
ble up  their  biscuit  without  eating  it,  and  then 
eat  two  or  three  large  pieces  of  rich  cake? 
I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  will  not  feel 
satisfied  if  your  child  is  merely  free  from  actual 
disease ;  you  want  him  to  be  positively  healthy, 
ruddy-cheeked,  strong-limbed,  active  enough  to 
enjoy  a  winter  walk  without  taking  cold,  vigor- 
ous enough  to  bear  a  summer's  heat  without 
"  running  down,"  full  of  overflowing  life  and 
animal  spirits.  Then  you  will  need  to  ask  your- 
self regarding  his  food,  and  to  ascertain,  not  only 
what  won't  hurt  him,  but  what  will  give  him  the 
best  material  for  building  up  bones  and  muscles, 
nerve  and  brain  tissues ;  in  short,  what  sort  of 
timber  you  will  furnish  him  to  build  his  house 
with.  I  often  recall  what  an  old  doctor  said 
to  me  concerning  children's  taking  cold :  "  They 
don't  have  croup  or  lung  fever  from  every  un- 
necessary exposure ;  but  a  certain  part  of  their 


BABY  S    FOOD.  99 

vitality,  which  ought  to  go  toward  their  growth, 
is  expended  in  resisting  the  evil  influence."  So 
with  food. 

There  are  plenty  of  things  which  grown  peo- 
ple eat  without  much  thought  (and  I  don't  know 
that  it  does  them  much  harm, 

For  they  are  old   and  tough, 
And   can  eat  them  well  enough,) 

articles  which  are  neither  nutritious  nor  easily 
digested,  but  which  it  is  sheer  robbery  to  feed  to 
children  ;  for  instance,  pies,  rich  cake,  sausages, 
indeed  pork  in  any  form,  fried  things  generally, 
all  kinds  of  hot  breads  and  biscuits,  doughnuts, 
griddle-cakes,  etc.  These  should  all  be  tabooed 
in  the  nursery. 

And  people  give  them  to  their  children  in 
this  land  of  plenty,  where  there  is  such  a  variety 
of  prepared  cereal  food,  oatmeal,  cracked  wheat, 
hominy,  Graham  flour,  rice,  corn  starch,  etc., 
and  where,  the  whole  year  round,  fresh,  luscious 
fruit  of  some  kind  is  always  plenty  and  cheap. 
Compare  a  dessert  of  apples  or  oranges  to  one 
of  mince  pie,  or  a  breakfast  of  beefsteak  and 
oatmeal  to  one  of  sausages  and  griddle-cakes  1 


IOO  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

Yet,  I  have  heard  mothers  say  who  have 
brought  their  children  up  on  a  course  of  griddle- 
cakes,  doughnuts  and  soda  biscuits :  "  Oh,  I  let 
my  children  eat  anything;  there  is  no  use  in 
being  fussy,  and  they're  as  well  as  most  peo- 
ple," in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  no  one  of 
them  enjoys  really  robust  health;  that  unusual 
fatigue  overcomes  them  completely,  and  head- 
aches and  billious  attacks  abound.  Some  people 
seem  to  think  that  as  long  as  their  children 
are  not  writhing  in  the  actual  agonies  of  the 
stomach-ache,  nothing  has  hurt  them. 

"But  you  don't  object  to  griddle-cakes,"  I 
hear  you  say.  "  Why,  we  had  them  almost  the 
year  round  for  breakfast  at  father's,  and  we 
children  didn't  eat  anything  else." 

There  is  just  the  mischief  of  it.  Two  or 
three  light,  carefully  fried  griddle-cakes  to  "  finish 
off"  a  substantial  breakfast  of  meat  or  fish  might 
have  a  negative  virtue,  though  I  doubt  if  they 
could  have  a  positive  one ;  but  for  a  growing 
child  to  take,  on  a  fasting  stomach,  to  begin 
the  day's  work  with  plateful  after  plateful  of 
the  leathery,  grease-soaked  compounds  that  go 
by  the  name  of  griddle-cakes,  with  syrup  or 


BABY  S    FOOD.  IOI 

molasses  to  complete  the  mischief  —  it  seems 
as  if  a  little  reflection  would  teach  the  most 
ignorant  mother  better.  For  those  who  give 
them  to  their  children  for  supper,  I  haven't  a 
word  to  say.  "  They  are  joined  to  their  idols ; 
let  them  alone." 

After  all,  the  question  isn't,  What  is  the  mini- 
mum of  care  and  thought  required  to  bring 
children  up  to  the  point  where  they  can  take 
care  of  themselves  ?  but,  What  is  the  maximum 
development  of  all  their  physical  and  mental 
powers  ?  Has  the  average  man  or  woman  so 
much  physical  health  and  mental  culture  that 
we  can  afford  to  cast  aside  as  unnecessary  any 
helps  to  a  higher  standard  of  physical  develop- 
ment ?  How  quickly  your  eye  singles  out  in 
a  group  of  children  the  rosy  cheeked  and 
thoroughly  healthy-looking  ones !  They  are  the 
exception,  not  the  rule.'  You  may  see  intelligent 
faces,  perhaps,  but  heavy  eyes,  pale  cheeks  and 
narrow  shoulders ;  children  entering  in  life 
weighted  with  a  body  which  will  fail  to  do  half 
the  work  they  have  a  right  to  expect  of  it.  Now, 
isn't  it  worth  while  to  give  the  little  folks  a 
fair  start  ? 


IO2  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

It  is  a  very  solemn  thought  that  the  useful- 
ness and  happiness  of  their  mature  years  will 
be  largely  augmented  or  diminished  by  their 
health  of  body ;  and  for  that  we  mothers  are 
directly  responsible.  I  know  there  are  hereditary 
taints  and  predispositions  to  disease,  and  that  no 
human  foresight  can  altogether  prevent  acci- 
dents and  contagious  diseases  ;  yet,  for  a  child's 
normal  physical  condition,  his  mother  is  really 
responsible.  At  all  events,  he  should  have  no 
worse  constitution  than  he  was  born  with,  and, 
if  possible,  a  better  one. 

Did  you  ever  think  of  all  it  meant  to  you 
as  a  mother  in  those  passages  where  Paul  speaks 
of  our  bodies  as  being  made  fit  temples  for  the 
indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit  ? 

But  I  have  said  enough  to  set  you  think- 
ing, and  remember  that  "the  best  living  is  to 
make  our  lives  the  fruit  of  our  best  thinking." 


LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER.— III. 

THE   QUESTION   OF   DISCIPLINE. 

MY  DEAR :  "How  tempus  does  fugit"  as 

the  college  boys  used  to  say !  To  think  your 
last  letter  has  lain  unanswered  so  long,  and 
that  baby  is  almost  two  years  old !  And 
besides  after  my  long  delay,  I  shall  have  to 
be  so  ungracious  as  to  give  you  the  bitter 
tonic  of  a  little  scolding  —  I  told  you  you'd 
repent  asking  my  advice — for,  from  the  tone 
of  your  last  letter,  I  am  afraid  you're  making 
one  of  the  commonest  mistakes  of  young 
mothers.  You  say  you  get  almost  discouraged ; 
your  little  boy  has  such  a  naughty  temper, 
and  it  is  so  hard  to  make  him  obey  you ; 
you  never  would  have  believed  that  a  child 
so  young  could  be  so  self-willed  and  passion- 
ate. Will  you  think  me  very  cruel  if  I  tell 
you  that  I'm  afraid  you're  as  much  to 
blame  as  he  is,  and  that  the  root  of  the  dif- 

103 


IO4  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

ficulty  is  too  much  sewing-machine,  and  too 
little  fresh  air  !  You  sit  down  in  your  nursery 
with  the  baby  playing  about  on  the  floor,  and 
take  care  of  him  and  sew  all  day,  going  out 
but  seldom ;  isn't  that  so  ?  I  can  hear  your 
answer  already  —  "  Yes ;  but  how  can  I  help 
it  ?  I  can't  leave  him  much  with  the  girl ; 
the  kitchen  floor  isn't  a  fit  place  for  him,  and 
she's  too  busy  to  take  proper  care  of  him. 
If  I  go  out  I  must  take  him,  and  to  stop 
and  dress  him  and  myself  uses  up  so  much 
time  out  of  the  very  best  part  of  the  day, 
that  I  don't  seem  to  accomplish  anything  with 
my  sewing.  Besides,  I  am  making  him  some 
of  the  sweetest  little  dresses,  with  such  cun- 
ning little  tucks,  that  I  can't  bear  to  leave 
them." 

•  And  so  you  sew  on,  impatient  at  every 
interruption.  Your  very  interest  in  your  work 
making  you  "hurry  to  see  how  it  is  going  to 
look,"  the  atmosphere  of  the  nursery  growing 
more  and  more  charged  with  mental  electricity 
and  bad  air,  till  finally  the  little  fellow  makes 
some  request  more  unreasonable  than  any 
previous  one,  but  which,  if  you  were  in  your 


THE   QUESTION    OF   DISCIPLINE.  10$ 

best  estate,  you  would  refuse  so  pleasantly  or 
substitute  something  equally  good  so  readily 
that  he  would  be  quite  satisfied.  Instead  you 
are  provoked  that  he  should  ask  anything 
more  when  you  are  half-killing  yourself  (as  you 
think)  for  him  now,  and  you  give  him  an 
angry  denial.  Then  comes  a  storm  of  angry 
crying ;  your  irritated  nerves  respond  with  an 
equally  angry  (shall  I  say  it  ?  Oh !  poor 
human  nature,  it's  true)  shake  or  even  slap. 
He  answers  back  saucily,  or  refuses  to  obey 
you,  perhaps  even  strikes  at  you  with  his 
puny  little  hand,  and  then  you  must  punish 
him.  But  in  what  state  of  mind  or  body  is 
either  of  you  for  that  most  difficult  and  delicate 
task  —  a  just  and  fair  punishment.  The  affair 
degenerates  into  an  angry  quarrel  between  a  strong 
person  and  a  very  weak  one.  Well  for  you  if, 
before  the  thing  is  over,  the  little  fellow 
doesn't  say  between  his  sobs,  as  I  heard  a 
child  say  once,  "  Mamma,  I  didn't  mean  to 
be  naughty  ;  but  you  beginned  it,  mamma  !  " 

With  what  a  sinking  heart  and  reproachful 
conscience  you  look  back  after  your  passion 
has  cooled  off,  and  very  likely,  unless  you  are 


IO6  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

a  good  deal  wiser  than  most  of  us,  feeling 
your  injustice,  you  undo  what  little  good  your 
discipline  may  have  done,  by  injudicious  indul- 
gence afterward.  And  —  what  has  become  of 
your  sewing  ?  Now,  suppose  you  philosophically 
say,  I  might  as  well  take  care  of  this  child 
out-of-doors  as  in  the  house ;  and  so  you  and 
he  go  out  for  a  walk,  leaving  your  nursery 
windows  open  meanwhile.  How  changed  every- 
thing is  when  you  return !  How  much  better 
he  behaves !  you  say  ;  and  I  doubt  not  if  he 
could  speak,  he  would  say  the  same  thing  of 
you.  "But  the  dress  isn't  finished  that  day.'' 
No,  but  "  as  the  life  is  more  than  meat,  and 
the  body  than  raiment,"  so  are  red  cheeks 
better  than  white  dresses,  and  a  happy  heart 
than  a  ruffle. 

Then  on  long  hot  summer  afternoons  there  is 
a  deal  of  moral  suasion  in  a  good  bath  and 
fresh  clothing,  even  if  he  has  had  his  regular 
"  wash "  in  the  morning.  I  have  seen  three 
or  four  children  behaving  like  a  troop  of  snarl- 
ing little  savages,  transformed  by  a  course  of  cold 
water,  hair  brushes  and  a  few  clean  clothes, 
into  a  company  of  pleasant,  well-behaved,  civil- 


THE    QUESTION    OF    DISCIPLINE.  IO/ 

ized  little  Christians.  If  children's  clothes  are 
uncomfortable,  either  too  tight  or  too  loose, 
they  will  sometimes  be  cross  from  that  alone. 
Think  of  the  miseries  children  endure  from 
tight  skirt-bindings,  loose  underwaists  that  drag 
down  on  their  shoulders,  stockings  that  won't 
stay  up,  and  hats  that  continually  slip  off ! 

There  will  come  times,  too,  when  the  child 
makes  a  direct  issue  against  your  authority. 
Such  a  moment  is  a  very  serious  one,  and  no 
mother  ought  to  enter  upon  the  conflict  with- 
out lifting-up  of  the  heart  to  the  source  of  all 
wisdom  for  guidance  and  discretion. 

You  must  remember  that  in  this  matter  of 
government  you  are  aiming  to  teach  your  child 
not  merely  to  mind  you  now,  but  how  to 
govern  himself  when  he  grows  up  ;  for  he  will 
not  always  have  you  to  teach  him.  You  are 
to  instruct  him  to  have  command  over  his 
passions,  and  appetites,  and  will,  and  incli- 
nations, just  as  in  learning  to  walk  he  learns 
how  to  control  and  use  his  muscles  and  sinews. 
Not  to  "break  his  will,"  not  to  put  him  in 
subjection,  but  to  teach  him  to  control  his  will 
by  his  reason.  To  do  this  he  must  learn  to  obey 


IO8  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

you,  because  it  is  right  he  should ;  because  you 
are  set  over  him  as  an  authority  for  him  till 
he  is  old  enough  to  be  an  authority  for  him- 
self ;  not  because  you  have  whipped  him  into 
a  fear  of  you.  I  will  not  say  that  a  child 
brought  up  on  this  principal  will  always  spring 
at  your  bidding  like  a  well-whipped  hound ; 
but  I  do  think  he  can  be  trusted  to  obey  as 
well  in  your  absence  as  in  your  sight/  and  com- 
petent to  see  the  right  from  the  wrong  in 
any  ordinary  emergency  of  temptation. 

It  is  very  important  not  to  allow  your  punish- 
ment to  be  cumulative  ;  that  is,  not  to  heap 
one  thing  on  top  of  another.  Because  a  child 
has  done  wrong  and  been  punished,  to  refuse 
him  his  good-night  kiss,  or  something  like  that, 
is  to  a  sensitive  nature  sometimes  sheer  cruelty. 
Remember  that  the  child  has  not  forfeited  your 
love  ;  you  are  not  angry  with  him,  but  with  his 
offense,  and  may  combine  the  strongest  indig- 
nation against  that,  with  the  most  loving  ten- 
derness and  yearning  over  him.  The  punish- 
ment over  and  the  child  repentant,  consider  the 
matter  settled,  and  never  allow  any  one,  especially 
a  servant,  to  taunt  him  with  it  afterward. 


THE   QUESTION    OF    DISCIPLINE.  109 

I  was  quite  surprised  once  to  hear  an  amiable 
lady  tell  how  angry  she  was  made  when  a  child, 
by  an  old  colored  servant  who  said  to  her  with 
an  indescribable  sneer,  "  Oh,  your  father  had 
to  whip  you,  did  he  ? "  The  lady's  eyes  flashed 
as  she  said,  "  I  have  never  forgotten  how  like 
a  tiger  I  felt ;  I  could  have  killed  the  old 
woman  if  I  had  been  strong  enough." 

Another  important  thing  is  to  give  the  child 
time  enough  to  understand  what  you  do  want, 
and  to  see  the  reasonableness  of  your  com- 
mands. Don't  spring  at  him  in  a  highwayman, 
your-money-or-your-life  fashion  :  "  Mind  me  in- 
stantly, or  I'll  thrash  you."  Many  a  child  has 
been  fairly  startled  into  disobedience,  by  the 
suddenness  of  his  parent's  commands  which 
aroused  his  natural  resistance  before  he  fairly 
comprehended  what  was  wanted.  Of  course  a 
parent  must  sometimes  require  instant  and  un- 
hesitating obedience ;  but  when  children  are 
accustomed  to  see  that  you  have  good  reasons 
for  your  commands  generally,  they  will  obey 
without  reasons  when  it  is  necessary  they  should. 
On  this  account  punishments  which  give  them 
time  to  think  over  matters  are  better  than 


IIO  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

those  which  simply  inflict  pain.  For  instance, 
if  a  child  meddles  mischievously,  and  you  wish 
to  teach  him  to  let  things  alone,  tie  up  the 
offending  hands,  and  make  him  sit  still  half 
an  hour.  You  don't  hurt  him  physically  at  all, 
as  a  smart  "  whipping  "  would  ;  but  the  restraint 
teaches  him  the  lesson  without  pain.  If  he 
runs  away,  tie  up  his  feet.  But  let  me  say 
in  passing,  do  not  send  a  child  to  bed  supper- 
less  as  a  punishment.  It  is  a  barbarity.  Did 
you  ever  know  a  grown  man  or  woman  who 
wasn't  made  cross  and  ugly  by  lack  of  food, 
and  we  punish  children  not  to  stir  up  all  the 
hatefulness  in  them,  but  to  make  them  see 
their  naughtiness  and  have  no  more  of  it. 

There  will  be  times,  and  I  say  it  in  all  sadness, 
when  nothing  will  answer  but  the  rod.  But  this 
does  not  mean  an  angry  beating,  nor  even  to 
break  the  yardstick  over  his  head.  ( A  good 
conscientious  mother  actually  told  me  once,  quite 
unconscious  of  any  thing  queer  about  it,  that 
they  hadn't  any  yardstick ;  her  husband  had 
broken  it,  punishing  the  children.)  It  should 
always  be  the  last  resort,  and  never,  never,  NEVER 
when  the  parent  is  angry.  Stop  and  think  about 


THE    QUESTION    OF    DISCIPLINE.  I  1 1 

it,  be  sure  you  are  right  and  just  and  calm. 
Then  do  it,  if  you  must,  with  a  firm  mouth 
and  eyes  full  of  tears.  I  have  seen  a  father 
punish  his  child  in  that  spirit,  and  the  instant 
the  punishment  was  over,  the  little  creature 
crept  up  into  his  arms,  and  laid  her  head  on 
his  broad  breast,  while  he  was  not  ashamed  to 
let  his  tears  mingle  with  hers.  Such  punish- 
ments will  not  come  very  often,  and  I  believe 
need  never  be  necessary  after  a  child  is  six 
or  seven  years  old.  Perhaps  I  can  explain  more 
clearly  what  I  mean  by  teaching  a  child  to 
control  his  will  by  telling  you  a  little  incident 
which  happened  in  my  own  family  only  a  few 
days  ago.  You  know  what  a  quick-tempered, 
impetuous  little  whirlwind  Mary  was.  She  has 
wonderfully  improved  in  self-control,  and  we 
haven't  had  any  "tantrums,"  as  she  calls  them, 
for  some  time.  Just  before  dinner  is  always  a 
bad  time  for  discipline,  for  the  best-tempered 
child  is  apt  to  be  cross  when  hungry ;  there- 
fore, avoid  the  occasion  as  carefully  as  you  would 
a  conflict  with  your  servant  girl  on  Monday. 
It  was  at  that  unlucky  hour  that  I,  unawares, 
and  in  the  most  innocent  manner,  raised  the 


112  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

demon  of  temper.  Mary  passed  in  front  of  me 
as  I  sat  sewing.  It  is  a  bad  habit  of  hers, 
and  I  pleasantly  told  her  to  go  back  and  go 
behind  my  chair.  To  my  amazement  she  flew 
into  a  passion,  and  though  she  threw  herself 
angrily  back  into  her  place  by  the  window,  she 
absolutely  refused  to  pass  out  behind  my  chair  as 
I  wished.  What  should  I  do  ?  Here  was  direct 
disobedience.  She  must  obey  me  for  her  own 
good  ;  but  how  should  I  make  her  do  it  ? 
Punish  her  till  she  did  ?  or  appeal  to  her  sense 
of  right  in  the  matter  ?  In  the  calmest  voice 
I  could  command  in  my  surprise,  I  said  to  her: 
"  Mary,  you  know  that  it  is  perfectly  right  for 
mamma  to  ask  you  to  do  this.  If  you  do  it 
pleasantly,  it  won't  take  you  a  minute ;  but  if 
you  are  cross  and  ugly  about  it,  you  will  grow 
crosser  and  uglier  every  minute,  until  by  and 
by  mamma  will  have  to  punish  you  severely 
in  some  way."  Reaching  over  and  kissing  her 
forehead,  I  added,  "  Mamma  doesn't  want  to 
punish  you,  but  you  must  do  as  I  say ;  now 
how  much  better  to  do  it  of  your  own  accord." 
But  there  was  no  response  to  this ;  nothing  but 
angry  defiance  in  look  and  tone.  I  spoke  more 


THE   QUESTION    OF    DISCIPLINE.  113 

sternly  this  time — "Now,  Mary,  you  must  do 
as  mamma  asks  you  to,  because  it  is  right  you 
should.  Neither  mamma  nor  you  can  go  down 
to  dinner  till  you  come  out  behind  the  chair 
properly  ;  you  are  making  us  both  very  unhappy 
because  you  are  determined  not  to  do  right." 
Still  there  was  no  relenting.  I  arose  and  made 
preparations  for  dinner,  showing  that  I  expected 
she  would  do  what  was  right  —  a  great  help 
in  itself  sometimes  —  then  quietly  seated  my- 
self again  and  waited.  She  was  still  angrily 
twisting  herself  about  and  thumping  on  the 
window-sill.  "Mary,"  said  I  very  sadly,  "are 
you  going  to  oblige  me  to  make  you  mind  me 
by  punishing  you  ?  Can't  you  obey  me  because 
you  love  me  and  know  what  is  right  ?  There 
is  a  very  naughty  spirit  in  your  little  heart 
now.  That  same  naughty  spirit  makes  grown-up 
people  do  very,  very  wicked  things  ;  are  you  going 
to  let  it  have  its  own  way  now  ?  If  you  do,  by 
and  by  it  will  be  a  great  deal  stronger  than 
you  are." 

"  Why  don't  you  make  me  mind  you  ? "  she 
said  sullenly. 

"  Because  you  know   yourself    just  what    you 


114  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

ought  to  do,  and  I  want  to  give  you  a  little 
chance  to  do  right  yourself.  But  I  can't  wait 
a  very  great  while.  If  you  don't  do  it  your- 
self I  shall  have  to  make  you  do  it,  because, 
my  dear  child,  God  has  given  you  to  me  that 
I  may  teach  you  how  to  grow  up  to  be  a  good 
woman,  and  if  I  don't  make  you  obey  me,  I 
sha'n't  be  obeying  Him." 

I  waited  a  few  minutes  in  silence.  Suddenly 
she  flounced  out  and  rushed  ^ross  the  room, 
passing  behind  the  chair.  "There,  I  did  it," 
she  said  angrily,  "but  not  because  you  wanted 
me  to." 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  "you  ought  to  go  back 
and  do  it  because  I  wanted  you  to."  Some- 
what to  my  surprise,  she  walked  back  and 
stood  sullenly  there. 

"Now,"  said  I  very  pleasantly,  "will  you  not 
come  out  as  you  ought  to  ? " 

I  had  arisen  from  my  chair  in  response  to 
some  call  from  one  of  the  younger  children, 
and  reached  my  hand  toward  her.  She  came 
directly  forward,  took  my  hand  and  burst  into 
tears,  completely  subdued.  I  took  her  in  my 
lap  a  few  minutes,  bathed  her  hot  face  and 


THE   QUESTION    OF   DISCIPLINE. 

eyes,  and  said  a  few  soothing  words  to  her. 
The  dinner  bell  rang,  and  we  went  down  to 
dinner.  I  said  nothing  more  about  the  matter 
then,  diverting  her  mind  by  some  pleasant  stories 
and  cheerful  conversation,  and  giving  time  for 
her  nervous  agitation  to  subside.  After  dinner, 
when  I  saw  that  she  was  quite  calm,  I  took 
her  to  my  own  room,  and  taking  her  in  my 
lap,  had  a  long  talk,  telling  her  why  it  was 
that  we  must^)bey  —  everybody  had  to  obey 
something  ;  she  would  have  obeyed  the  naughty 
spirit  if  she  hadn't  obeyed  me.  Ever  since 
she  has  been  old  enough  to  understand  it,  we 
have  always,  after  any  naughtiness  of  hers,  had 
a  quiet  talk  about  it,  followed  by  kneeling  down 
together  and  asking  help  from  God  to  keep  her 
from  doing  wrong  again ;  so  I  was  not  sur- 
prised when  she  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  Mamma, 
hadn't  we  better  tell  Jesus  about  it  ? "  And 
when  I  heard  her  penitent  voice  broken  by 
sobs,  saying,  "  Dear  Jesus,  I'm  sorry  I  didn't 
want  to  mind  mamma ;  please  forgive  me  and 
make  me  always  mind  her  and  you  too,"  I  felt 
she  had  learned  a  lesson  in  true  obedience 
which  she  would  never  forget. 


TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

"Well,"  you  say,  "this  is  all  very  well;  but 
how  shall  I  begin  with  my  two-year-old  little  tot  ? 
I  can't  go  through  such  a  course  of  reasoning 
with  him."  Of  course  not ;  but  suppose  a  case, 
where  you  appeal  to  what  little  reason  he  has. 
You  know  all  about  the  reckless,  indiscriminate 
way  such  babies  have  of  seizing  everything  they 
can  reach — your  work-basket,  table  ornaments, 
and  such  things.  The  mother's  first  impulse  is 
to  put  everything  out  of  the  way,  and  I  have 
been  in  rooms  where  the  baby's  entrance  was 
the  signal  for  a  grand  stampede  of  everything 
movable  and  breakable.  Now,  a  better  way,  I 
think,  is  to  allow  things  to  remain  —  unless  it 
is  something  very  fragile  and  choice  —  and 
when  his  lordship  "  grabs "  at  it,  to  take  hold 
of  his  hand,  shake  your  head  and  say  "  No, 
no,"  in  a  very  decided  tone.  He  will  probably 
make  a  brave  fight  to  get  it ;  but  if  he  sees 
the  "  No,  no,"  means  No  (and  you  may  have 
to  snap  his  fingers  pretty  sharply  before  he  sees 
it ),  he'll  soon  learn  there  are  some  things  which 
have  rights  which  even  he  is  bound  to  respect. 
There  is  a  great  difference  in  children  about 
it;  but  with  time  and  patience  I  believe  they 


THE    QUESTION    OF    DISCIPLINE.  I  I/ 

can  all  be  taught  (and  sooner  than  most  people 
think)  that  there  are  certain  things  they  mustn't 
touch  —  and  here  is  a  beginning  in  self-control. 
If  you  once  have  a  clear  idea  of  just  what 
you  want  to  do,  you  will  be  able  to  find  ways 
to  do  it  from  day  to  day.  You  will  be  sur- 
prised how  easily  and  naturally  the  little  fellow 
will  learn,  and  how  one  day's  teaching  will  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  next  day's  opportunity. 
It  is  "here  a  little  and  there  —  a  good  deal." 
With  patience,  care  and  common  sense,  you'll 
find  your  boy  at  six  years  neither  a  cringing 
mean-spirited  little  sneak,  nor  an  uproarious 
tyrant ;  but  a  manly,  happy  obedient  child.  Try 
it  and  see. 


LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER.  -  IV. 

HINTS     ON    EDUCATION. 

MY    DEAR :     I   am    going    to   write    you 

to-day  about  the  education  of  your  little  boy, 
something  which,  perhaps,  you  have  scarcely 
thought  of.  I  imagine  I  can  hear  your  tone 
of  amazement  as  you  say ;  "  The  education  of 
a  two-year-old  baby  ?  Why,  he  is  too  young 
to  learn  his  letters  even."  Certainly  he  is, 
and  I  hope  he  won't  know  them  for  at  least 
three  years  to  come.  But  learning  the  alpha- 
bet, important  as  it  is,  is  very  far  from  being 
the  first  step  in  a  child's  education.  Educa- 
tion, you  know,  is  a  leading  out  of  our  facul- 
ties, a  kind  of  mental  getting  our  tools  in 
order  in  such  a  way  that  we  can  use  ourselves 
to  the  very  best  advantage.  Now,  these  little 
people  come  into  the  world,  developed,  in  some 

respects,  but  little  better  than  jelly-fishes,  which 
uS 


HINTS    ON    EDUCATION.  I  IQ 

somebody  says,  consist  of  a  mouth  and  a 
stomach ;  but  every  year,  or  month  I  might 
say,  different  and  higher  sets  of  faculties  are 
developed.  How  much  a  child  has  to  learn 
the  first  three  years  of  his  life !  First,  the 
eye  must  be  taught  to  see,  and  in  seeing,  it 
learns,  unconsciously,  many  things  about  the 
laws  of  color,  size,  and  distance ;  then  the 
muscles  and  sinews  must  be  trained  to  act  in 
obedience  to  the  will,  and  the  body  must  learn 
the  art  of  balancing  itself  (by  no  means  an 
easy  task  —  if  it  seem  so,  learn  to  skate.) 
Later  comes  the  learning  to  talk,  which  is 
something  like  learning  German  or  Greek,  with 
organs  unaccustomed  to  utter  intelligible 
sounds. 

The  busy  handling  and  tasting  which  little 
babies  do  are  not  mere  idle  amusements,  but 
the  efforts  of  the  senses  to  carry  impressions 
of  this  strange  world  to  the  rapidly-developing 
brain.  First,  the  child  sees  an  object,  then  he 
reaches  to  take  it ;  in  other  words,  to  feel  of 
it  —  then  into  his  mouth  it  goes,  to  be  tasted. 
Compare  this  process  with  the  way  you  make 
the  acquaintance  of  a  strange  object  —  a  new 


I2O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

dish  at  the  table,  for  instance.  At  first  you 
look  at  it  rather  critically  (if  it  don't  look 
nice,  you  think  you  "  don't  care  for  any,  thank 
you"),  but  if  you  are  of  an  inquiring  turn  of 
mind,  and  also  courageous,  you  take  a  little 
on  your  plate,  and  then  "  poke "  at  it  with 
,your  spoon,  because  you're  too  well-bred  to 
take  it  in  your  fingers  ;  but  the  impulse  is  to 
find  out  how  it  feels — whether  it  is  hard  or 
soft,  rough  or  smooth.  If  you  are  with  other 
people,  you  delicately  inhale  its  fragrance ;  but 
if  you  are  by  yourself,  you  get  a  good  sniff 
at  it,  to  see  what  it  smells  like  ;  then  you  are 
ready  to  taste  it.  In  other  words,  you  learn 
about  new  things  just  as  the  baby  does. 

You  must  take  your  baby  just  where  he  is 
now,  not  much  more  than  a  little  animal,  and 
educate  his  physical  nature,  so  rapidly  develop- 
ing. For  instance,  he  has  just  reached  the 
climbing  age.  Every  chair  and  stool  is  a  worry 
to  you ;  and  a  pair  of  stairs  is  a  perpetual 
terror.  Now  show  him  how  to  get  *up  and 
down  the  stairs,  how  to  place  his  feet  in 
climbing  up  into  chairs.  Let  him  tumble  a 
little.  It  will  only  make  him  more  careful. 


HINTS    ON   EDUCATION.  121 

It  is  but  a  foretaste  of  the  hard  schooling 
which  experience  gives  us  all  our  lives.  Better 
a  little  fall  with  you  close  by  to  stop  it  at 
the  right  place,  than  a  great  one  when  you 
are  "  off-guard "  some  day.  (Remember  that 
too,  when  he  is  in  his  teens.)  But,  I  beg  of 
you,  if  you  want  to  see  him  grow  up  active, 
strong-limbed  and  agile,  do  not  keep  his  white 
dresses  too  clean,  nor  tie  his  sashes  after  the 
present  uncomfortable  fashion,  so  that  he  isn't 
conscious  of  any  legs  above  his  knees.  Then, 
let  him  feed  himself.  He'll  make  a  miserable 
mess  of  it  at  first,  but  protect  him  well  with 
bib  and  tin  tray,  and  he'll  soon  teach  his 
spoon  the  way  to  his  mouth.  Let  him  burn 
his  fingers  when  the  stove  is  not  very  hot ;  he 
won't  touch  it  when  it  would  be  dangerous. 

As  he  grows  older,  and  his  intellectual  na- 
ture begins  to  wake  up,  his  endless  "why?" 
and  "what  for?"  are  the  keys  with  which  he 
unlocks  the  hidden  treasures  of  the  strange 
world  he  has  come  to  live  in.  As  Tennyson  says : 

In   children   a  great  curiousness  is  well 

Who  have  themselves  ,to  learn,  and  all  the  world. 


122  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A  DAY. 

I  doubt  if  we  always  think  of  that  when 
their  irrepressible  curiosity  drives  us  almost 
distracted.  When  he  comes  running  to  you 
with  some  queer  thing  or  other  he  has  found, 
or  asks  you  why  you  do  this  or  don't  do  that, 
you  may  be  sure  that  his  perceptive  faculties 
are  beginning  to  stir  themselves.  Tiresome  as 
his  questions  are,  they  show  that  his  mind  is 
wide-awake  and  ready  to  receive  on  that  sub- 
ject at  least.  A  question  he  asks  you,  all 
eagerness,  to  hear  your  answer,  is  worth  twenty 
you  ask  him  sometime  when  he  doesn't  care 
a  fig  about  it.  Parents  often  persistently  snub 
their  children  and  "shut  them  up"  for  six  or 
eight  years,  and  then  wonder  why  teachers 
never  can  get  them  to  "  open  out "  again. 
"Such  teachers!"  they  say.  "The  children 
don't  take  the  least  interest  in  their  lessons," 
never  thinking  that  they  did  their  best  to  take 
all  the  edge  off  their  minds  before  they  sent 
them  to  school  to  be  "  sharpened  up."  Even 
if  the  subject  is  one  quite  beyond  your  boy, 
and  he  can't  understand  your  answer  very  well, 
the  fact  that  he  knows  something  about  it  will 
prepare  his  mind  for  a  clearer  understanding 


HINTS    ON    EDUCATION. 

of  it  the  next  time  he  meets  it.  Of  course 
it  is  of  the  first  importance  that  your  expla- 
nation shall  be  correct  as  far  as  it  goes.  Be- 
sides this,  it  is  a  source  of  great  comfort  to 
a  child  to  feel  that  his  parents  care  enough 
about  what  interests  him  to  talk  with  him 
about  it.  May  not  the  decrease  of  confidence 
which  parents  complain  of  in  their  grown-up 
children  have  its  beginning  in  the  days  of 
childhood,  when  neither  father  nor  mother  could 
spend  time  to  answer  their  questions,  and  other 
people  did  ? 

In  addition  to  teaching  him  about  the  things 
lie  naturally  notices  himself,  you  wish  to 
show  him  how  to  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open 
to  everything  about  him.  His  senses  are  his 
teachers,  and  the  things  he  sees  and  touches 
are  what  interest  him  first.  If  his  senses  can 
be  trained  to  accurate  and  constant  observa- 
tion, he  has  the  elements  of  education  in 
himself,  whether  he  has  the  advantages  of 
the  schools  or  not.  He  will  always 

Find  tongues   in   trees,  books   in  the   running  brooks. 

This   can    be    done    in    a    great    many   ways, 


124  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

varying  according  to  the  tastes  and  mental 
capacity  of  the  children  as  well  as  the  dif- 
ferent circumstances  and  talents  of  the  mother. 
For  instance,  a  mother  is  out  with  her  chil- 
dren for  a  walk  in  the  country,  wheeling  the 
baby's  carriage.  The  children  spy  some  flowers 
growing  by  the  roadside,  and  ask  in  eager 
child-fashion  :  "  Oh  !  what's  that,  mamma  ?  " 
It  is  very  natural  and  easy  to  say,  "  Oh ! 
don't  touch  it,  it's  nothing  but  a  horrid  weed  — 
perhaps  it's  poisonous."  The  children's  interest 
is  dulled  at  once,  and  they  run  on,  presently 
finding  something  else.  The  answer  this  time 
is,  "  That's  a  thistle ;  don't  try  to  pick  it ; 
you'll  prick  your  fingers."  And  so  the  mother 
trudges  along,  wearily  thinking  over  her  plans 
for  to-morrow's  breakfast,  or  wondering  if  her 
last  year's  travelling  suit  would  "make  over" 
for  a  school  dress  for  Susie,  while  the  chil- 
dren go  frolicking  here  and  there,  getting  into 
mischief,  and,  very  likely,  having  a  scolding 
before  they  get  home,  and  all  gaining  nothing 
from  their  walk  except  the  freshness  which 
physical  exercise  and  pure  air  bring  to  us  in 
spite  of  ourselves.  Now,  suppose  she  says 


HINTS    ON   EDUCATION.  12$ 

as  the  children  bring  her  the  flower,  "Why, 
that's  a  Scotch  thistle  ;  how  did  you  manage 
to  get  it  without  pricking  your  fingers  ? " 
an  implied  commendation  of  the  child's  skill 
which  he  likes  as  well  as  you  the  praise  of 
your  canned  strawberries.  ("  Hardly  any  one 
succeeds  in  keeping  the  real  fruit  flavor,  you 
know.")  The  mother  goes  on  to  say,  "  See 
the  pretty  soft  purple  color,  with  all  those 
'  prickers '  around  it,  like  soldiers  guarding  a 
beautiful  queen.  Do  you  notice  how  each 
flower,  as  you  call  it,  is  made  of  a  great 
many  little  flowers  ?  And  there's  one  gone  to 
seed.  Get  it,  Charlie,  if  you  can,  and  let's 
look  at  it."  Now,  the  children's  interest  is 
wide  awake,  and  they  ask  a  whole  bookful  of 
questions.  Baby,  in  her  carriage,  begins  to  be 
impatient  at  the  interruption  of  her  ride. 
"  Let's  walk  along,  and  I'll  tell  you  a  story 
about  it."  So  the  mother  tells  how  once 
when  the  English  army  was  creeping  up  at 
night  to  surprise  the  sleeping  Scotch,  a  bare- 
footed soldier  stepping  on  a  thistle  alarmed 
the  camp  with  his  cry  of  pain,  and  the  enemy 
were  driven  back  in  defeat,  and  how  the 


126  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

Scotch,  in  memory  of  the  event,  adopted  the 
thistle  as  their  national  emblem.  The  children 
enjoy  the  mother's  interest  in  what  has  inter- 
ested them ;  she,  in  her  turn,  is  refreshed  by 
the  change  of  thought  from  her  ordinary  cares ; 
and  they  all  come  home  invigorated  mentally 
as  well  as  bodily. 

Perhaps  some  day,  in  years  to  come,  bending 
wearily  over  school-books,  the  child  reads  the 
incident  of  the  thistle  in  his  history,  and,  as 
a  flash  of  lightning  illuminates  a  room  at  mid- 
night, the  whole  scene  stands  out  in  his 
memory ;  the  green-bordered  roadside,  the  warm, 
level  rays  of  the  late  afternoon  sun  touching 
the  spires  and  roofs  of  the  distant  city,  his 
little  sister  in  her  carriage,  his  mother's  smile 
and  voice  ;  and  the  whole  lesson  is  brightened 
by  this  reflection  from  his  boyhood.  In  ways 
like  these,  you  can  bind  yourself  with  silken 
cords  about  his  future.  From  what  wrong  and 
wickedness  in  his  restless  youth  and  early  man- 
hood little  memories  like  these  may  beguile 
him,  you  cannot  tell. 

To  advance  a  step  farther  from  the  realm  of 
simple  sight  and  touch,  there  are  many  his- 


HINTS    ON    EDUCATION.  I2/ 

torical  stories  which  are  as  fascinating  as  fairy 
tales ;  for  instance,  King  Alfred  and  the  burnt 
cakes,  Columbus  seeing  the  light  on  the  shore 
after  his  three  weary  days  of  watching,  or 
Washington  crossing  the  Delaware.  These 
things,  once  committed  to  a  child's  memory, 
are  never  "dropped  out"  as  so  much  later 
acquirement  is,  and  they  will  serve  as  pegs  to 
hang  historical  knowledge  on  hereafter,  or  as 
centres  around  which  he  will  naturally  group 
other  facts.  One  such  story  will  make  a  whole 
reign  or  epoch  seem  real  to  him.  You  ought 
so  to  instruct  your  child  that  he  will  find 
when  he  begins  to  study,  that  he  knows  a 
great  many  things  about  history,  geography, 
and  the  physical  sciences  even,  which  he  never 
can  remember  not  to  have  known,  nor  where 
he  learned  them ;  but  there  they  are,  a  fertile 
sub-soil  for  other  seeds  to  grow  in. 

I  meant  to  say  something  about  the  cultiva- 
tion of  your  boy's  literary  taste,  but  I  see 
that  I  must  reserve  that  until  another  letter. 


LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  MOTHER.— V. 

THE    CULTIVATION     OF    LITERARY    TASTE     IN    CHIL- 
DREN. 

DEAR :  When  I  wrote  you  the  other  day 

I  said  something  about  the  various  ways  in 
which  little  children  can  be  educated  long  be- 
fore they  are  old  enough  to  go  to  school.  Their 
literary  taste,  also,  can  be  cultivated  at  a  very 
early  age.  Now,  don't  misunderstand  me,  and 
say  you  don't  like  precocious  children,  like 
Macaulay,  for  instance — for,  between  you  and 
me,  I  think  he  must  have  been  an  insufferable 
little  "  prig,"  if  he  did  all  the  wonderful  things 
his  "  Life "  says  he  did.  Children  can  learn 
to  like  the  good  things  in  our  literature,  and 
need  not  be  confined  to  a  mental  diet  of 
"Mother  Goose."  Not  that  I  don't  believe  in 
"Mother  Goose."  Nothing  ever  can  take  the 
place  of  "Boy-Blue"  and  "Bo-peep."  But  be- 

128 


LITERARY   TASTE    IN    CHILDREN.  I2Q 

cause  children  like  molasses  candy,  are  they 
never  to  have  beefsteak  and  bread  ?  And  en 
passant,  let  me  suggest  what  an  excellent  basis 
"  Mother  Goose "  makes  for  stories,  when  a 
mother's  wits  fail  under  the  insatiable  demands 
for  "  a  story,  a  new  one,  something  we  have 
never  heard  before."  Take  "Jack  Homer;" 
dress  him  up  in  a  new  name,  and,  with  vari- 
ations and  details  innumerable,  a  la  Susan  Cool- 
idge,  make  a  new  story.  You  can  even  smug- 
gle in  a  little  moral  about  selfishness  if  you're 
skilful,  and  then  end  by  repeating  the  immortal 
verse,  and  the  children's  shouts  of  laughter 
will  repay  you  for  the  exercise  of  your  imagin- 
ation. And  here  let  me  whisper  what  a  help 
such  a  story  is,  when  you're  doing  disagreeable 
things,  like  washing  their  ears,  or  combing 
snarls  out  of  their  hair,  at  which  even  good 
children  fret  and  twist  about. 

But  I  was  speaking  about  cultivating  a  child's 
literary  taste.  I  know  two  little  girls,  aged 
seven  and  four,  who,  quite  unconsciously,  have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  some  of  the  writings 
of  our  best  poets,  and  find  great  delight  in 
them,  and  are  learning  to  appreciate  good 


I3O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

things  in  a  perfectly  natural,  child-like  way. 
The  eldest  was  a  very  nervous,  excitable  child ; 
it  was  almost  impossible  to  quiet  her  to  sleep, 
and  she  was  very  wakeful  at  night.  When  she 
was  about  three  years  old,  her  mother  began 
reading  to  her  at  bedtime  some  of  those 
pretty  little  pieces  of  poetry  for  children  —  such 
as  are  found  in  so  many  collections  like  "  Hymns 
and  Rhymes  for  Home  and  School,"  "  Our 
Baby,"  and  the  like,  and  found  the  rhythm  so 
soothing  to  the  child's  restless  nerves,  that 
she  committed  several  to  memory,  to  use  when 
the  book  was  not  at  hand.  She  kept  the  little 
book  or  newspaper  scrap  in  her  work-basket, 
and  when  she  was  holding  the  baby,  or  could 
do  nothing  else,  she  learned  a  stanza  or  two. 
She  soon  had  quite  a  collection  at  her  tongue's 
end,  and  now  it  is  part  of  the  bedtime  routine  for 
mamma  to  repeat  one  or  two.  The  little  rol- 
licking four-year-old,  a  perfect  embodiment  of 
animal  life  and  spirits,  generally  calls  for  Tenny- 
son's "  Sweet  and  Low,  Wind  of  the  Western 
Sea,"  while  the  older  one  is  charmed  by  Mary 
Howitt's  pretty  ballad  of  "  Mabel  on  Midsum- 
mer. Eve,"  sweet,  pure,  good  English,  all  of 


LITERARY    TASTE    IN    CHILDREN.  13! 

it.  I  watched  the  elder  child  as  she  stood  at 
the  window  beside  her  mother  one  wild  No- 
vember morning,  looking  at  the  dead  leaves 
whirling  in  the  wind,  while  the  mother  recited 
to  her  Bryant's  lines,  "  The  melancholy  days 
are  come."  It  was  almost  as  good  as  the  poem 
to  see  the  child's  gray  eyes  kindle  with  appre- 
ciation as  she  eagerly  drank  in  the  words. 
One  can  see  the  influence  of  this  culture  in 
the  little  songs  they  make  up  for  their  dollies ; 
a  jingle  and  jargon,  of  course,  but  interspersed 
with  remembered  lines  from  their  "  little  verses," 
and  having  withal  a  good  deal  of  rhythm  and 
movement  about  them.  Their  ear  has  been  ed- 
ucated to  a  certain  standard  of  appreciation, 
just  as  German  children  who  grow  up  in  an 
atmosphere  of  good  music  find  delight  in  har- 
monies which  are  hardly  understood  by  our 
less  cultivated  American  ears.  Of  course,  you 
must  carefully  select  beforehand  to  suit  the 
children's  minds,  and  must  explain  similes  and 
allusions. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  children's  minds  are 
so  susceptible  to  good  impressions,  they  are 
equally  affected  by  bad  ones.  A  child's  world 


132  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

is  made  up  of  the  things  he  has  already 
learned ;  and  these  things  are  conveyed  to  his 
mind  by  what  he  has  actually  seen  himself,  or 
by  pictures  and  stories  of  what  he  has  not 
seen.  His  imagination  is  as  quick  to  supply 
"  missing  links "  as  the  most  enthusiastic  Dar- 
winian. What  isn't  there  ought  to  be,  so  it's 
all  right.  Whether  he  lives  in  a  world  peopled 
by  distorted,  horrible,  unnatural  objects,  or  in 
one  full  of  all  lovely  and  pleasant  ones,  de- 
pends very  largely  on  the  pictures  he  sees  and 
the  stories  he  hears.  If  his  picture-books  are 
of  the  hideous  order,  in  which  a  blue-bearded 
monster  holds  a  sword  over  an  equally  horrible 
pink-and-scarlet  woman,  you  must  expect  him 
to  wake  at  night  from  dreadful  dreams  shriek- 
ing with  terror,  and  imagining  grotesque  figures 
leering  at  him  from  every  dark  corner ;  and 
much  more  so  if  he  is  allowed  to  hear  ghost 
and  hobgoblin  stories  told  by  superstitious  ser- 
vant girls.  Besides  this,  if  his  ideas  of  art  are 
built  upon  the  basis  of  a  Punch-and-Judy  style 
of  picture-books,  agents'  engravings,  or  news- 
paper and  tea-store  chromos,  he  must  pass 
through  a  long  course  of  training  before  he  is 


LITERARY   TASTE    IN    CHILDREN.  133 

capable  of  knowing  what  a  good  picture  is,  if 
indeed  he  ever  does  know.  In  these  days  of 
photographs  and  beautiful  children's  books, 
there  is  no  reason  why  people  of  even  moder- 
ate means  should  not  educate  their  children 
into  something  like  a  sense  of  artistic  appre- 
ciation. Why,  you  can  buy  at  any  print-store 
a  good  photograph,  neatly  framed,  of  any  of 
the  great  pictures  of  the  world  (the  "  San  Sis- 
tine  "  cherubs,  for  instance)  for  a  dollar.  And 
yet  how  many  people  there  are  who  would 
spend  that  money  for  Hamburg  edgings  with- 
out a  thought,  but  would  never  dream  of  buy- 
ing a  good  picture  to  hang  on  the  nursery 
wall. 

Now,  I  can  hear  you  say  with  a  sigh,  "  Oh 
dear !  this  all  takes  so  much  time  and  thought." 
Of  course  it  does ;  so  does  everything  that  is 
good  for  anything.  As  to  time,  you  have  "all 
there  is;"  it  depends  only  upon  what  you  use 
it  for.  I  feel  almost  like  groaning  when  a 
young  mother  shows  me  some  marvel  of  em- 
broidery or  machine-stitching,  saying  triumph- 
antly, "There,  I  did  every  stitch  of  that 
myself ! "  When  will  women  learn  that  their 


134  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

time  is  worth  too  much  for  better  things,  to 
be  spent  upon  such  trifles.  It  is  really  pitiful 
to  see  a  good,  conscientious  little  mother  reso- 
lutely shutting  herself  away  from  so  much  that 
is  best  and  sweetest  in  her  children's  lives  for 
the  sake  of  tucking  their  dresses  and  ruffling 
their  petticoats.  How  surprised  and  grieved 
she  will  be  to  find  that  her  boys  and  girls, 
at  sixteen,  regard  "  mother "  chiefly  as  a  most 
excellent  person  to  keep  shirts  in  order  and  to 
make  new  dresses,  and  not  as  one  to  whom 
they  care  to  go  for  social  companionship ! 
Yet,  before  they  are  snubbed  out  of  it  by  re- 
peated rebuffs,  such  as  "  Run  away,'  I'm  too 
busy  to  listen  to  your  nonsense,"  children 
naturally  go  to  their  mothers  with  all  their 
sorrows  and  pleasures;  and  if  "mother"  can 
only  enter  into  all  their  little  plans,  how 
pleased  they  are !  Such  a  shout  of  delight  as 
I  heard  last  summer  from  Mrs.  Friendly's  cro- 
quet-ground, where  her  two  little  girls  were 
playing !  "  Oh,  goody,  goody !  mamma  is  coming 
to  play  with  us ! "  She  was  a  busy  mother, 
too,  and  I  know  would  have  much  preferred 
to  use  what  few  moments  of  recreation  she 


LITERARY   TASTE    IN    CHILDREN.  135 

could  snatch,  for  something  more  interesting 
than  playing  croquet  with  little  children,  not 
much  taller  than  their  mallets.  She  has  often 
said  to  me,  "  I  cannot  let  my  children  grow 
away  from  me ;  I  must  keep  right  along  with 
them  all  the  time,  and  whether  it  is  croquet 
with  the  little  ones,  or  Latin  grammar  and 
new  skates  with  the  boys,  or  French  dictation 
and  sash-ribbons  with  the  girls,  I  must  be  '  in 
it '  as  far  as  I  can." 

But  really,  the  most  difficult  part  of  all  this 
is  to  think  of  it.  We  are  so  preoccupied  with 
our  cares  and  plans  that  we  haven't  "  the  heart 
at  leisure  from  itself"  thus  even  to  sympathize 
with  our  children.  We  brood  over  Bridget's 
deficiencies  and  our  plans  for  trimming  Mary's 
dresses,  to  say  nothing  of  heavier  burdens,  till 
our  poor  heads  are  half-distracted.  Yet  if  we 
could  only  lift  ourselves  above  these  thoughts 
into  a  clearer  atmosphere  while  we  are  with 
the  children,  we  would  find  ourselves  refreshed 
when  we  go  down  into  the  fogs  and  mists 
again.  It  is  the  everlasting  monotony  of  our 
work — of  the  same  things  over  and  over  every  day — 
that  wear  upon  us  mentally  quite  as  much  as 


136  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

/ 

bodily.  If  we  could  only  be  strong  enough  to 
make  our  intercourse  with  the  children  lift  us 
out  of  the  "  ruts "  of  our  dull  planning  and 
thinking,  this  culture  of  them  would  be  a  change 
and  stimulus  instead  of  an  additional  burden. 
(A  change  from  saddle  to  harness  often  rests 
the  galled  horse,  you  know.)  We  should  find 
ourselves  snatching  little  bits  of  time  to  look 
into  encyclopaedias  and  histories  to  see  if  our 
facts  are  correct ;  brightening  up  rusty  school- 
knowledge  ;  perhaps  even  turning  into  account 
our  schoolgirl  accomplishments  of  drawing,  and 
music,  and  composition ;  and  certainly  reading 
with  some  thought  for  the  children,  which  of 
itself  would  supply  the  lack  of  purpose  so  usual 
in  women's  reading.  The  little  we  do  is  apt 
to  be  desultory  and  unsatisfactory ;  a  hodge- 
podge of  popular  novels  and  the  newspaper. 
We  have  so  little  time  to  read,  we  say,  but 
we  let  slip  five  and  ten-minute  chances,  or  waste 
them  over  some  frivolous  story,  because  we 
haven't,  or  think  we  haven't,  any  object  to 
stimulate  us.  Our  husbands  read  and  study  in 
the  direction  of  their  business  or  professions, 
and  their  minds  are  constantly  sharpened  by 


LITERARY   TASTE    IN    CHILDREN.  137 

the  necessities  of  their  daily  work.  Ours,  if  we 
are  not  careful,  are  narrowed  by  the  necessary 
and  important  attention  to  the  detail  of  house- 
keeping, till  we  can  talk  an  hour  over  the 
comparative  advantages  and  disadvantages  of 
Irish  or  colored  help,  or  discuss  "knife-plaiting" 

like  philosophers  ;    but  beyond  that  .     Yet, 

I  am  confident  of  my  sex's  ability,  and  sure 
that  there  are  a  good  many  of  us  who  wish 
for  better  things,  and  if  we  could  only  once 
get  into  the  way  of  it,  would  find  ourselves 
accumulating  knowledge  and  growing  in  culture 
from  year  to  year,  and  that,  too,  without  hav- 
ing dusty  furniture,  or  unmannerly  children. 
Let  the  desire  to  cultivate  and  educate  the 
children  be  an  inspiration,  and  we'll  find  our- 
selves cultivated  and  educated  by  the  same 
process. 

We  shall  find  some  things  crowded  out  of 
our  busy  lives.  We  must  have  fewer  clothes, 
less  trimming,  simpler  cooking ;  but  the  men- 
tal furnishing  of  the  family  will  be  so  much 
more  complete.  Hear  what  Gladstone  says 
about  man's  work,  and  make  the  application 
to  woman's :  "  To  comprehend  a  man's  life,  it 


138  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

is  necessary  to  know,  not  merely  what  he  does, 
but  also  what  he  purposely  leaves  undone. 
There  is  a  limit  to  the  work  that  can  be  got 
out  of  a  human  body  or  a  human  brain,  and 
he  is  a  wise  man  who  wastes  no  energy  on 
pursuits  for  which  he  is  not  fitted ;  and  he 
is  still  wiser  who,  from  among  the  things  that 
he  can  do  well,  chooses  and  resolutely  follows 
the  best." 

You  will  perceive  that  I  have  said  nothing 
about  religious  education.  I  know  so  well  how 
the  joy  and  beauty  of  happy  Christian  living 
pervades  your  home  that  it  does  not  seem 
necessary.  A  child  cannot  grow  up  in  such 
an  atmosphere  without  being  religiously  edu- 
cated any  more  than  the  morning-glory  can 
help  taking  color  and  beauty  from  the  sun- 
beams which  surround  it.  In  a  home  like 
yours,  where  every  one  is  courteous  to  every 
one  else  —  the  children  included  —  the  grace  of 
politeness  will  become  incorporated  into  a 
child's  nature,  not  a  mere  surface  "veneer," 
but  as  a  genuine,  hearty  unselfishness. 

Now,  don't  beguile  yourself  by  thinking 
"  These  things  are  well  enough,  but  far  beyond 


LITERARY    TASTE    IN    CHILDREN.  139 

me  now ;  when  my  boy  is  older  I'll  begin." 
Your  baby  will  be  in  college  before  you  know 
it.  Children  have  a  curious  way  of  growing 
older  every  week,  and  we  must  take  them  as 
well  as  old  Father  Time  by  the  "forelock," 
if  we  are  going  to  do  much  with  them. 


LETTERS    TO    A    YOUNG    MOTHER  — 
SECOND   SERIES.— I. 

INDOOR    AMUSEMENTS    FOR   CHILDREN. 

MY   DEAR :  I  can   scarcely  realize  all  the 

changes  you  speak  of  in  your  last  letter.  I 
sometimes  think  we  busy  grown-up  people  never 
would  know  how  fast  we  are  growing  older  if 
the  children  did  not  grow  up  so  fast.  To 
think  that  "  that  baby "  is  a  great  boy  of  ten, 
and  there  are  three  younger  ones !  And  you 
ask  for  more  "advice,"  something  for  older 
children  like  that  I  gave  you  a  few  years  ago 
for  the  little  ones,  especially  some  ways  of 
amusing  them  on  stormy  days  when  they  are 
all  shut  up  in  the  house  together.  I  don't 
wonder  that  you  say  you  are  sometimes  almost 
frantic  by  five  o'clock.  Haven't  I  been  there 
myself  ?  Isn't  it  the  very  hardest  hour  of  the 
whole  day  ?  The  children  miss  the  fresh  air. 
They  have  played  so  hard  indoors  that  they 

140 


INDOOR   AMUSEMENTS.  14! 

are  tired  and  cross,  and  squabble  with  each 
other,  and  finally  they  all  flock  about  your 
chair,  restless  and  impatient  for  something,  they 
don't  know  what.  You  are  hurrying  to  finish 
a  piece  of  sewing  before  the  early-gathering 
twilight  quite  creeps  over  you,  perhaps  a  trifle 
impatient  that  it  has  come  so  soon.  One  tired 
little  head  comes  down  into  your  lap,  and 
pulls  your  work  out  of  your  hands.  Another 
uneasy  mortal  climbs  upon  your  chair,  jogs 
your  elbow,  and  unthreads  your  needle.  Be- 
hind you  Johnny  is  slyly  teasing  the  baby 
who  finally  breaks  out  into  a  loud  wail. 

Now  lay  aside  your  work,  you  are  ruining 
your  eyes,  your  nerves,  your  temper,  and 
accomplishing  nothing.  Take  the  children  to 
the  washstand,  bathe  the  hot  cheeks  and  wash 
the  moist  little  hands  —  cold  water  is  a  means 
of  grace  sometimes  —  smooth  the  tangled  hair, 
take  off  the  heavy  boots  and  put  on  slippers. 
The  judicious  distribution  of  clean  aprons  also 
adds  materially  on  these  occasions  to  the  sum 
total  of  human  happiness.  As  you  are  so 
fortunate  as  to  be  musical  gather  them  about 
the  piano,  start  off  with  some  bright  and 


142  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

rollicking  song,  or  "Mother  Goose"  jingle,  the 
"  Muffin  Man "  or  the  "  Shaker  Dance "  with 
its  accompanying  gestures.  After  you  have 
worked  off  some  of  the  surplus  electricity  in 
this  way  you  can  gradually  lead  them  up  to 
quieter  songs.  Perhaps  by  the  time  your 
husband's  key  clicks  in  the  front  door,  he 
will  be  greeted  by  the  sweet  strains  of  some 
such  dear,  old-fashioned  hymn  as  "  Glory  to  thee, 
my  God,  this  night."  It  will  surely  be  a 
pleasanter  welcome  than  to  hear  you  say, 
"  There  children,  your  father  is  coming,  now 
you'll  have  to  behave." 

If  you  tire  of  the  piano,  books  are  never 
failing.  Read  a  chapter  in  the  "Arabian 
Nights,"  "  Robinson  Crusoe,"  or  coming  down 
to  modern  times,  the  "Bodleys."  If  these  are 
beyond  your  audience,  try  "  Dotty  Dimple " 
and  her  cousins,  or  the  ever-delightful  "  Mother 
Goose."  If  you  make  wise  selections,  the 
children  will  surely  listen.  They  are  naturally 
fond  of  melody  and  rhyme ;  if  they  never 
hear  anything  better,  they  will  be  satisfied 
with  mere  jingle.  But  try  spirited  ballads  and 
little  poems  by  our  best  authors  and  see  how 


INDOOR    AMUSEMENTS.  143 

quickly  they  will  learn  to  appreciate  them. 
Few  boys  will  be  deaf  to  "  How  they  brought 
the  good  news  from  Ghent,"  and  few  girls 
but  will  be  charmed  with  Westwood's  "  Little 
Bell."  There  is  no  lack  of  books  to  cull 
from.  Almost  every  household  possesses  some 
of  our  standard  poets,  or  selections  from  their 
works.  There  are  little  compilations  like  Lucy 
Larcom's  "  Hillside  and  Roadside  Poems,"  Mrs. 
Giles'  "  Hymns  and  Rhymes  for  Home  and 
School,"  "  Hymns  for  Mothers  and  Children," 
Elliot's  "Poetry  for  Children,"  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  school  readers,  which  contain  many 
excellent  selections.  Of  larger  and  more  expen- 
sive works,  there  are  Dana's  "  Household  Book 
of  Poetry,"  Mackay's  "  Thousand  and  One 
Gems,"  or,  best  of  all  for  children,  Whittier's 
"Child  Life"  in  prose  and  poetry. 

You  can  make  a  book  for  yourself  by  saving 
favorite  bits  of  poetry  by  known  and  unknown 
authors,  which  go  floating  through  our  news 
papers  and  magazines.  Before  you  are  aware, 
you  will  have  an  attractive  book,  dear  to  the 
children  because  you  made  it,  and  an  educa- 
tion and  refreshment  to  yourself.  But  perhaps 


144  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A    DAY. 

the  children  are  too  uneasy  to  listen  to  read- 
ing. Then  tell  them  a  story.  If  you  cannot 
"  make  up "  one,  fall  back  on  the  classics, 
"Cinderella,"  or  "Jack  the  Giant  Killer,"  or  one 
of  Hans  Andersen's  tender  little  "Marchen."  Tell 
"  Thumbelina "  once  and  see  if  you  haven't  a 
story  always  ready. 

Where  the  children  are  old  enough  to  sit 
up  for  some  time  after  supper  there  is  another 
hour  to  be  provided  for.  Don't  you  remember 
those  delightful  evenings  spent  at  the  houses 
of  your  playmates  where  the  mother,  and 
sometimes  the  father,  took  part  in  the  games 
of  "Twenty  Questions,"  "Stage  Coach,"  or 
"  Proverbs,  "  where  they  popped  corn  and  ate 
apples  with  the  children  ?  But  you  cry  in 
dismay,  "What  is  to  become  of  my  reading 
hour  ?  The  evenings  are  the  only  times  I 
have  for  myself."  True,  but  by  eight  o'clock 
the  younger  ones  ought  to  be  in  bed,  and 
the  older  ready  to  go  to  their  lessons  or  their 
library  books.  You  may  become  interested  in 
your  book,  but  not  so  absorbed  that  you  can- 
not stop  to  help  Mary  about  her  map  ques- 
tions, or  to  talk  with  Tom  about  Stanley's 


INDOOR   AMUSEMENTS.  145 

"Across  the  Dark  Continent."  Your  children's 
reading  and  study,  as  well  as  their  play, 
ought  always  to  have  a  decided  flavor  of 
"mother"  in  it. 

This  does  not  provide  for  the  days,  and 
that  is,  after  all,  the  main  question.  Have 
you  ever  tried  a  scrap-book  ?  It  makes  no 
end  of  litter,  unless  managed  just  right ;  but 
let  it  once  become  an  "  institution,"  to  be 
provided  for  as  you  do  for  the  week's  wash- 
ing, and  it  will  keep  the  children  whole- 
somely busy  for  many  an  hour.  Understand, 
to  begin  with,  that  the  main  object  is  to 
amuse,  not  to  produce  results.  If  you  expect 
the  children  to  make  nice  picture  books,  you 
will  either  be  wofully  disappointed,  or  be 
obliged  to  do  the  main  part  of  it  yourself. 
For  the  youngest  children,  fold  into  book-form 
large  sheets  of  brown  wrapping  paper,  and  let 
them  put  on  them  anything  they  choose. 
They  will  be  pleased  with  anything  that  will 
paste,  especially  if  it  is  bright  colored.  For 
the  older  ones  you  can  get  sheets  of  white 
paper  at  any  printing  office.  Make  stout 
covers  of  cotton  cloth,  pasted  on  stiff  paper 


146  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

and  sew  it  all  firmly  together,  book-binder 
fashion.  For  pictures  use  odd  magazines,  old 
papers,  publishers'  catalogues,  advertising  circu- 
lars, old  books  whose  bindings  are  hopelessly 
broken,  and  the  like.  You  will  be  surprised 
if  you  stop  to  think  how  many  things  are 
"  illustrated "  nowadays,  whose  ultimate  destiny 
is  the  waste  basket.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say  that  they  should  not  be  allowed  to 
have  pictures  that  are  really  bad,  either  in 
subject  or  design.  Because  we  do  not  want 
to  cut  up  our"Aldines"  and  "Art  Journals," 
we  need  not  think  that  the  "  Weekly  Ter- 
rifice "  or  the  patent  medicine  almanacs  are 
good  enough  for  them.  There  are  so  many 
good  and  cheap  pictures  everywhere  that  there 
is  no  excuse  for  children  or  anybody  else 
looking  at  bad  ones.  If  the  children  are  old 
enough  to  do  the  work  nicely,  or  you  are  at 
leisure  to  direct  them,  they  will  make  very 
handsome  books,  but  if  not,  let  them  put 
pictures  in,  upside  down  or  wrong  side  out, 
and  they  will  enjoy  the  doing  of  it  just  as 
well.  The  girl  of  eight  or  nine  will  produce 
very  different  results  from  the  child  of  five  or 


INDOOR    AMUSEMENTS.  147 

six,  and  should  have  better  materials  ;  but  the 
little  one  will  take  quite  as  much  pride  hi 
his  "s'cap  book"  even  if  it  has  a  piano  0:1 
top  of  a  church  steeple,  and  a  flaming  insur- 
ance laid  side  by  side  with  last  year's  calendar 
upside  down.. 

Do  not  give  them  many  pictures  at  a  time, 
and  insist  that  they  finish  cutting  them  out 
before  they  begin  to  paste  them  in.  Other- 
wise, they  will  have  paste,  scissors,  pictures  and 
waste-paper  "  heaped  in  confusion  dire."  I 
know  of  no  amusement  to  which  children  will 
return  with  greater  delight,  and  out  of  which 
they  will  get  so  much  pleasure  for  the  same 
expenditure  of  time  and  money. 

If  your  pictures  are  too  good  to  give  to  the 
children,  make  the  book  yourself,  if  you  have 
time,  and  let  them  stand  by  and  look.  They 
can  help  by  preparing  the  pictures  for  you  to 
paste. 

In  such  a  book  you  can  put  all  these  brig!; 
little    reward   and   Christmas   and    Easter   cards, 
pictures    and    valentines    which    are    continually 
floating  into  a  family  of  children.     These   pretty 
things   soon   get    lost    and    spoiled,    but    if    put 


148  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

into  a  book  at  once  they  make  a  very  inter- 
esting and  pretty  picture-book.  If  the  leaves 
are  made  of  cloth,  and  the  book,  when  fin- 
ished, is  simply  bound  by  a  bookbinder,  it  will 
last  a  whole  generation  of  children  and  be  a 
never-failing  delight. 

When  they  get  tired  of  pasting,  let  them 
paint  the  pictures.  The  little  ones  can  use 
colored  crayons  or  pencils ;  the  older  ones  will 
enjoy  best  the  toy  water-color  paint  boxes. 
Give  them  a  few  instructions  about  rubbing 
off  the  colors,  and  teach  them  to  use  the  tips 
of  the  brushes,  net  to  daub  with  the  whole 
brush.  Provide  them  with  tiny  cups  for  the 
water,  and  something  on  which  to  wipe  the 
brushes.  A  few  minutes'  instruction  to  begin 
with  will  help  them  very  much,  and  they  will 
paint  by  the  hour. 

Another  amusement  can  be  furnished  them 
by  cutting  tissue-paper  into  square  pieces  about 
as  large  as  an  ordinary  book,  and  letting  them 
trace  the  pictures  in  their  "  St  Nicholas "  or 
"  Nursery "  or  scrap-books.  This  is  a  good 
preparation  for  their  writing  and  drawing  les- 
sons by  and  by.  Some  systems  of  drawing 


INDOOR    AMUSEMENTS.  149 

and  writing  begin  with  tracing  lines  of  copies 
through  thin  paper  in  just  this  way.  The  lit- 
tle folks  will  learn  a  great  deal  about  form 
and  color  by  all  this  handling  of  and  looking 
at  pictures,  to  say  nothing  of  what  they  learn 
from  the  pictures  themselves. 

The  success  of  these  amusements  will  depend 
very  much  upon  the  good  condition  of  their 
tools  and  materials.  If  the  paste  is  lumpy, 
the  pencils  dull,  the  paper  crumpled,  the 
brushes  the  wrong  kind  or  worn  out,  the 
embryo  artists  will  soon  come  flocking  back 
to  your  sewing-chair,  complaining,  "O,  mamma, 
we  can't  do  anything  with  it.  Why  can't  we 
go  out  doors  ?  It  is  horrid  in  the  house." 

Through  the  long  summer  days,  especially  if 
several  very  warm  ones  come  in  succession, 
children  often  droop  and  look  pale  with- 
out seeming  really  sick.  The  truth  is  that  they 
are  over-tired  with  play  and  the  heat,  and  do 
not  sleep  as  well  or  as  much  as  in  the  lon- 
ger and  cooler  nights.  Have  them  go  up- 
stairs after  their  mid-day  dinner,  take  off  their 
shoes  and  stockings  and  as  much  of  their 
clothing  as  you  think  they  can  bear  without 


I5O  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

taking  cold.  Now  send  each  child  into  a  room 
by  itself,  to  lie  down  and  rest.  Give  them 
books  to  read  or  look  at,  or  pencil  and  paper 
to  draw  with.  Do  not  say  anything  about  a 
nap ;  children  over  five  years  old  generally 
"  hate  naps,"  but  insist  that  they  keep  quiet 
and  do  not  talk  to  each  other.  Very  likely 
the  youngest  or  most  fatigued  will  drop  off 
into  a  little  sleep  which  will  refresh  him  very 
much. 

An  hour  or  two  of  quiet  even  if  they  do 
not  sleep  will  rest  the  busy  little  muscles ; 
the  separation  from  each  other  will  rest  the 
busy  little  brains  and  tongue.  And  here  is 
the  real  benefit  of  the  plan  ;  if  they  are 
allowed  to  tumble  all  over  the  beds  and  frolic 
with  each  other  they  do  not  get  the  quiet 
they  need.  What  a  relief  it  is  to  us  some- 
times to  have  an  hour  or  two  by  ourselves 
away  from  our  best  friends.  After  they  get 
up  and  are  washed  and  dressed  you  will  be 
astonished  to  see  how  amiable  they  have  grown. 

And  these  same  hot  afternoons  afford  an 
excellent  opportunity  to  teach  them  how  to 
bathe  themselves.  There  is  no  hurry  about 


INDOOR    AMUSEMENTS.  I$I 

their  dressing;  it  is  so  much  time  saved  from 
exposure  to  the  hot  sun.  As  long  as  they 
do  it  themselves,  no  matter  if  it  takes  an 
hour.  Send  them  into  the  bath-room.  (It  is 
not  necessary  to  add  with  certain  restrictions 
as  to  age  and  sex.)  If  they  are  wide-awake 
children  they  will  frolic  fast  enough  to  be  in 
no  danger  of  taking  cold.  You  will  enjoy  the 
shouts  and  laughter  that  come  from  the  bath- 
room, especially  if  you  don't  have  to  stay 
there  yourself.  When  you  think  they  have 
"splashed"  enough,  show  them  how  to  dry 
themselves,  but  let  them  do  it  all.  The  older 
ones  will  help  the  younger,  and  they  will  soon 
learn  to  be  skilful  enough  to  give  themselves 
their  regular  bath.  That  will  be  a  great  help 
to  you,  for  it  is  quite  a  tax  on  time  and 
strength  to  bathe  three  or  four  lively  children. 
Besides  you  want  them  to  grow  up  with 
habits  of  personal  neatness,  and  after  they 
have  once  learned  the  comfort  of  frequent 
baths  and  how  to  serve  themselves,  they  will 
need  no  other  teaching.  After  such  a  rest  in 
the  middle  of  the  day,  they  can  enjoy  the 
evening's  coolness  a  little  later.  It  does  some- 


152  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A    DAY. 

times  seem  rather  hard  to  send  children 
up-stairs  into  warm  rooms  to  bed,  in  the  long 
June  twilights,  almost  the  only  part  of  the  day 
that  is  pleasant  or  even  endurable. 

But  I  have  told  you  enough  for  a  begin- 
ning. Try  these  plans  and  see  how  you  like 
them.  You  may  modify  them  and  suit  your- 
self better. 


LETTERS    TO    A   YOUNG   MOTHER  — 
SECOND    SERIES.  — II. 

GIRLS    DOLLS   AND   BOYS*     COLLECTIONS. 

MY  DEAR :  Something  for  the  little  girls, 

this  time,  is  it  ?  Dolls  first  of  course.  I 
think  Eve  must  have  been  the  only  woman 
who  couldn't  recollect  playing  with  paper  dolls. 
There  is  a  limit  to  a  family  of  ordinary  dolls, 
for  the  dresses  are  generally  beyond  the  power 
of  the  little  mothers  to  make ;  and  the 
patience  of  the  best-natured  real  mother  fails  if 
she  has  too  many  grandchildren  to  sew  for. 
But  paper  dolls !  Why,  a  child  can  have  a 
hundred  or  two,  and  if  she  makes  and  clothes 
them  all,  who  can  complain  ?  Of  course,  those 
they  make  themselves  are  a  great  deal  more 
precious  than  any  you  can  buy.  Besides,  like 
almost  everything  else,  the  doing  is  better 
than  the  thing  done.  But  home-made  dolls 

'S3 


154  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

are  apt  to  have  homely  faces.  To  remedy 
this,  let  them  make  bodies  to  match  the  pretty 
little  heads  that  come  among  the  embossed 
pictures  used  for  decorating.  An  ingenious 
girl  will  soon  learn  how  to  do  it,  if  you  give 
her  a  single  pattern,  and  will  vary  the  bodies 
to  suit  the  heads.  As  for  the  ladies,  a  body 
is  not  at  all  necessary — the  elaborately 
trimmed  and  trailed  skirts  make  up  for  that 
slight  deficiency.  Old  fashion  plates  and 
pattern  catalogues  will  furnish  hosts  of  dolls, 
and  tissue  paper  and  a  little  ingenuity  will 
provide  wardrobes.  I  saw  a  little  girl  of  eight 
years  made  as  happy  as  a  queen  by  a  birth- 
day present  of  a  complete  dressmaking  estab- 
lishment for  her  paper  dolls.  It  was  a  small 
wooden  box,  neatly  lined  with  colored  paper, 
and  holding  a  bottle  of  mucilage,  a  pair  of 
blunt-pointed  scissors  "for  her  very  own,"  and 
a  dozen  half-sheets  of  bright-colored  tissue 
paper.  The  other  half-sheets  were  laid  one 
side  to  be  brought  out  when  these  were  gone. 
The  cost  of  such  a  box,  as  you  see,  is  trifling, 
but  more  amusement  could  be  got  out  of  it 
than  from  any  costly  toy. 


GIRLS    AND    BOYS     COLLECTIONS.  155 

If  your  little  girls  are  like  mine,  they  are 
constantly  teasing  for  "  something  to  sew,"  and 
that,  too,  when  you  are  too  busy  to  oversee 
their  patchwork,  or  anything  you  wish  them  to 
do  well.  If  you  give  them  an  old  stocking  to 
darn,  it  takes  only  a  few  minutes  to  mend 
that  all  up  into  a  heap,  and  then  the  cry 
begins,  "  Mamma,  that  is  all  sewed  up ;  I 
want  something  more."  At  your  leisure  cut 
some  perforated  card-board  into  pieces  small 
enough  to  be  handled  easily ;  mark  with  a 
lead  pencil  some  sort  of  a  pattern  —  flowers, 
birds,  letters,  animals,  anything  —  and  let  them 
embroider  it  with  bright-colored  worsted.  (Be- 
tween you  and  me,  they  will  not  be  much 
more  hideous  and  useless  than  a  good  deal 
of  the  "  fancy  work "  with  which  grown-up 
girls  amuse  themselves.)  The  older  children 
will  enjoy  marking  the  "patterns"  for  the 
younger  ones,  and  the  important  question 
whether  the  cat's  tail  shall  be  pink  or  scarlet, 
or  the  house  blue  or  yellow,  will  make  it  as 
lively  as  a  sewing  society.  You  can  vary  this 
amusement  by  letting  them  prick  patterns  in 
stiff  paper  with  a  large  needle.  Paper  prick- 


156  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

ing  is  one  of  the  prettiest  of  the  Kinder- 
garten "  occupations."  Words  like  papa,  mamma, 
sister,  etc.,  can  be  marked  for  them  to  prick 
and  work  into  "  book-marks "  for  birthday 
presents.  Do  not  expect  any  of  these  things 
to  be  either  pretty  or  good  for  anything ; 
then  you  will  not  worry  yourself  or  the  chil- 
dren over  them.  All  you  care  for  is  to  keep 
them  busy  and  interested ;  it  is  only  another 
form  of  play. 

When,  however,  the  children  are  large  enough 
to  sew  in  good  earnest,  they  can  amuse  them- 
selves and  learn  a  great  deal  about  cutting, 
fitting,  and  sewing,  by  making  their  dolls' 
clothes.  Cut  paper  patterns  for  them,  show 
them  how  to  lay  these  patterns  on  the  cloth, 
and  give  them  a  few  directions  about  begin- 
ning ;  then  let  them  cut  the  garments  out 
themselves.  When  the  cutting  is  finished,  pin 
the  separate  pieces  together  and  let  them 
baste  the  garment.  Stitch  the  long  seams  on 
your  machine,  leaving  them  to  do  such  short 
ones  as  will  teach  them  the  various  stitches 
without  discouraging  them  by  the  amount. 
"What!"  says  one,  who  believes  that  woman 


GIRLS    AND    BOYS     COLLECTIONS.  I $7 

was  made  for  the  needle,  not  the  needle  for 
woman  — "  teach  a  girl  to  sew  by  stitching 
her  dolls'  clothes  on  the  sewing-machine  ? " 
Yes ;  why  not  ?  We  do  not  teach  children  to 
walk  by  starting  them  on  a  pedestrian  tour 
from  New  York  to  Boston.  Nor  is  it  neces- 
sary in  order  to  teach  a  girl  to  sew  that  she 
should  do  so  many  yards  of  hemming  and  then 
so  many  more  of  something  else.  I  never 
could  see  any  sense  in  giving  "  over-and-ovcr " 
to  beginners.  It  is  one  of  the  most  difficult 
stitches  to  do  neatly,  and  yet  little  girls  are 
usually  given  "  patch-work "  for  their  first  les- 
son. Many  a  woman  carries  a  life-long  dislike 
to  sewing  because  of  the  coarse  towels  and 
dull  patch-work  she  dragged  over  in  those 
dreary  hours  when  she  was  "learning  to  sew." 
Don't  you  remember  how  you  used  to  say,  "  If 
I  could  only  have  something  pretty  and  that 
could  ever  be  finished ! "  What  grown  woman 
does  not  get  "tired  to  death"  of  a  garment 
which  lies  in  her  work-basket  for  weeks  ? 
And  a  little  girl's  sewing  work  soiled  by  long 
handling  and  perhaps  bitter  tears,  is  anything 
but  inviting.  Her  interest  m  it  is  gone  long 


158  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

before  it  is  finished.  But  if  she  helps  cut 
out  the  doll's  dress  herself  and  sees  it  "go 
together "  in  a  single  afternoon,  she  is  eager 
to  finish  it  and  put  it  on  the  dolly.  And 
she  learns  too,  to  expect  to  finish  things  up 
speedily,  to  turn  off  work  as  we  say,  which 
is  a  very  important  part  of  the  training  of  an 
embryo  housekeeper. 

To  "dress  up"  is  another  favorite  amuse- 
ment with  little  girls.  Give  them  some  cast- 
off  garments  for  this  purpose,  old  finery  worse 
than  useless  to  give  to  the  poor.  A  long 
skirt  is  indispensable.  Show  them  how  to  pin 
it  back,  so  as  to  be  short  enough  in  front  to 
walk  in,  and  yet  float  off  in  a  long  trail 
behind.  Take  that  old  bonnet  and  pin  some 
ribbons  on  it ;  give  them  that  faded  sash  of 
the  baby's  and  a  bright  scarf  for  a  shawl.  I 
have  seen  a  yard  or  two  of  pink  mosquito 
netting  used  with  astonishing  effect.  They  will 
array  themselves  gorgeously  and  "  go  out  call- 
ing," when  they  will  mimic  you  and  your 
friends  with  small  talk  till  you  will  wish  you 
had  set  them  a  better  example.  Let  them 
have  these  things  to  keep  and  provide  a  place 


GIRLS    AND    BOYS     COLLECTIONS.  I_ 

to    put    them    in,    when    they   are   through    play-    ' 
ing   with     them    (and    sec    that    they   put    them 
there),  and  you  will  be  surprised  at   the  amount 
of  fun   they   will   get   out   of   them. 

An  ingenious  mother  can  use  the  "gifts" 
and  "occupations  "  of  the  Kindergarten  to  some 
extent  for  the  little  ones,  even  if  she  does 
not  carry  out  all  the  ideas  fully.  Children  are 
very  fond  of  mat-weaving,  and  sometimes  pro- 
duce and  imitate  very  pretty  patterns.  They 
delight  in  clay-modeling;  it  is  a  kind  of  scien- 
tific mud-pie.  It  is  rather  dirty  work,  how- 
ever. 

But  we  must  not  forget  the  boys  entirely. 
Let  them  turn  their  country  rambles  in  the 
long  summer  vacation  to  good  account  by 
making  "  collections."  The  arranging  and  re- 
arranging these  will  keep  them  busy  many  a 
stormy  winter's  day.  It  is  not  the  things  col- 
lected which  are  of  any  value,  usually  —  though 
they  d3  pick  up  a  good  deal  of  information 
from  their  bugs,  butterflies,  stones,  shells, 
coins,  or  postage  stamps  —  but,  most  of  all,  the 
schooling  in  energy  and  perseverance.  Even  a 
collection  of  stamps  and  postmarks  from  old 


TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A  DAY. 

.envelopes,  insignificant  as  it  may'  seem  at  first 
sight,  will  help  to  organize  their  geographical 
knowledge.  The  countries,  States,  or  subdivis- 
ions arrange  themselves  and  form  a  rough 
frame-work  to  uphold  the  facts  learned  from 
books  or  general  reading  in  after  years.  And 
let  me  just  whisper  to  you  here,  if  you  go 
with  them  on  these  expeditions  into  the  woods 
and  fields,  don't  "nag"  them  all  the  while. 
Never  mind  if  it  does  take  your  breath  away 
to  see  the  trees  they  climb  and  the  steep 
places  they  look  over.  How  can  they  walk 
quietly  along  as  you  do  when  there  is  a  whole 
world  full  of  things  to  see  and  hear  ?  Be 
thankful  for  their  superabundant  vitality  which 
sends  them  careering  up  and  down  into  all 
sorts  of  accessible  and  inaccessible  places. 
Don't  let  your  presence  be  a  restraint  and  a 
worry.  Give  them  liberty  to  do  foolish  and 
unnecessary  things,  as  seems  to  you.  Poor 
fellows  !  the  time  will  come  soon  enough  when 
the  heads  will  be  tired  and  the  legs  be  glad 
to  walk  soberly  along.  These  collections  will 
furnish  a  wide-awake  mother  constant  favorable 
opportunities  for  training  her  children,  morally 


GIRLS    AND   BOYS'    COLLECTIONS.  l6l 

as  well  as  mentally.  An  over-generous  child, 
\vho  will  be  tempted  to  give  everything  away, 
will  learn  to  count  the  cost  before  he  commits 
himself.  A  careless  one  will,  perhaps,  learn  to 
take  care  of  his  treasures,  if  he  finds  that  is 
the  only  way  to  have  any.  Again,  the  contin- 
ual exchanges  with  their  playmates  may  be  the 
means  of  teaching  them  to  be  both  honest 
and  prudent.  For  instance,  here  is  a  boy  who 
imposes  upon  a  little  fellow  by  exchanging  a 
worthless  United  States  stamp  for  a  valuable 
foreign  one.  If  he  is  your  boy  you  will  give 
him  some  forcible  advice  about  common  hon- 
esty. Tell  him  that  Charles  Dickens  said, 
"  Your  '  smart '  men  will  have  America  by  the 
neck  and  strangle  her  some  day.'  And  you 
don't  want  him  to  be  one  of  them.  If  your 
boy  was  the  victim,  teach  him  to  be  more 
careful  in  his  bargains  and  not  to  believe  every- 
thing that  is  told  him.  Boys  who  have  learned 
to  be  both  honest  and  wary  have  made  a  good 
beginning  in  their  business  education. 

Do  not  be  dismayed  if,  after  you  have  taken 
considerable  trouble  to  provide  some  of  these 
amusements  for  them,  they  don't  "  take "  to 


1 62  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

them  or  soon  tire  of  them.  They  are  capri- 
cious about  their  plays.  The  engrossing  pursuit 
of  one  week  is  entirely  cast  aside  the  next. 
It  is  of  no  use  to  force  an  interest  in  any- 
thing. But  watch  and  be  ready  to  help,  direct, 
encourage  or  check,  as  the  case  may  be,  those 
things  which  please  them.  The  object  of  all  these 
things  is  not  so  much  to  amuse  the  children 
as  to  teach  them  how  to  amuse  and  occupy 
themselves,  to  learn  how  to  use  brains,  eyes, 
and  fingers ;  to  be  deft  and  neat,  and  busy 
and  happy.  It  is  as  possible  for  a  mother  to 
do  too  much  herself  in  amusing  her  children 
as  in  taking  care  of  them.  Where  a  child 
seldom  does  anything  for  itself,  is  never  allowed 
to  try  experiments,  and  make  failures,  the 
mother  becomes  a  slave,  and  the  child  a  help- 
less doll.  It  might  as  well  be  wrapped  in  pink 
cotton,  like  a  set  of  jewelry,  for  any  use  it 
learns  to  make  of  itself.  But  how  hardly  the 
world  uses  these  helpless  little  creatures  when 
they  grow  up.  The  girls  lose  their  etherial 
beauty  and  fade  into  spiritless  women  or  quer- 
ulous invalids.  The  boys  lose  heart  at  their 
first  rebuffs,  and  settle  back  on  to  any  one 


GIRLS    AND    BOYS*    COLLECTION.  163 

who  will  carry  them  along.  We  mothers  must 
aim  at  the  golden  mean  between  too  much  care 
and  too  little.  And  as  their  food  helps  to 
make  up  their  physical  status,  so  their  play 
can  contribute  towards  their  mental  and  moral 
stamina.  It  is  all  worth  looking  after.  As 
Michael  Angelo  said,  "  Perfection  is  made  up 
of  trifles,  but  perfection  itself  is  no  trifle." 


LETTERS    TO   A    YOUNG    MOTHER  — 
SECOND  SERIES  — III. 

SOME  QUESTIONS  OF  ORDER  AND  SUNDAY 
OCCUPATION. 

MY    DEAR :    I    laughed    over    your    last 

letter,  I  couldn't  help  it,  in  spite  of  its  dismal 
tone.  You  say  "your  'amusements'  are  dread- 
ful. What  with  the  snippings  for  the  paper 
dolls,  the  paste  and  the  cuttings  for  the 
scrap-books  and  the  rubbish  they  bring  in 
with  their  '  collections,'  it  is  brush  up  and  pick 
up  from  morning  till  night."  It  is  discourag- 
ing, that  is  a  fact.  After  you  have  spent  an 
hour  in  making  your  sitting-room  look  neat 
and  inviting  to  find  Mary's  twenty-five  paper 
dolls  and  their  wardrobes  encamped  on  the 
sofa,  or  Jamie's  box  of  horse-chestnuts  and 
little  stones  emptied  on  the  hearth-rug.  And 
if  you  complain,  the  bright  little  faces  cloud 
over  and  you  know  they  think,  even  if  they 

164 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  165 

don't  say  it,  "  I  can't  have  a  bit  of  fun  any- 
where." But  have  you  not  a  room  that  you 
can  devote  to  the  children  and  their  play- 
things ?  Not  some  dark  and  dismal  corner, 
good  for  nothing  else,  but  warm  and  light, 
and  not  too  far  away  from  you.  Such  a  room 
needs  sonic  furniture,  too.  An  empty  room  is 
as  desolate  and  uninviting  for  them  as  for 
you.  An  old  lounge,  not  too  good  to  be 
climbed  all  over  and  made  into  a  coach  or 
railroad  train,  a  large  table  for  the  pasting 
and  painting  and  drawing,  with  chairs  of  the 
right  height  for  them  to  sit  comfortably  at 
in,  an  old  book-case  for  the  boys'  "  collec- 
tions,'' an  old  bureau  or  trunk  for  the  doll's 
clothes,  will  make  it  a  child's  paradise.  Every 
article  of  furniture  will  have  a  dozen  different 
uses.  The  girls  will  curtain  off  the  corners 
with  sheets  or  mosquito  netting  for  their 
separate  houses,  and  will  display  much  taste 
and  ingenuity  in  arranging  their  dolls  airl 
furniture.  The  boys  can  fit  up  their  side 
with  their  work-bench  and  tools,  and'  make 
ships  and  shavings  without  disturbing  anybody. 
If  the  room  has  a  large  closet  with  shelves 


l66  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

and  drawers,  so  much  the  better.  It  will 
sometimes  be  —  as  a  forcible  old  lady  said 
once  of  a  similar  place  —  "a  perfect  old  glory- 
hole."  There  will  be  dolls  in  various  kinds  of 
undress  uniform  all  over  the  floor,  The  large 
wooden  box  you  have  covered  with  carpet  for 
the  playthings  will  hold  all  sorts  of  toys  in 
all  stages  of  demolition.  If  a  child  wants  to 
find  one,  he  tips  the  box  over,  empties  them 
all  on  the  floor,  then  runs  away  and  leaves 
mamma  to  pick  them  up,  if  she  will.  But 
she  mustn't  —  for  here  is  just  the  place  to 
teach  the  children  how  to  be  neat  and 
orderly ;  a  larger  how  than  we  arc  apt  to 
think,  sometimes.  Habits  of  neatness  and 
order  are  something  to  be  learned  as  well  as 
Latin  grammar,  and  for  most  people  they  are 
quite  as  difficult.  The  children  will  enjoy 
their  play-place  much  better  if  their  playthings 
arc  where  they  can  find  them.  They  will  not 
play  long  in  a  room  in  hopeless  disorder, 
though  they  will  do  their  best  to  get  it  so. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  one  cause  of 
our  ill-success  in  teaching  our  children  to  be 
orderly  is  often  that  they  really  do  not  know 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  l6/ 

where  different  articles  belong ;  perhaps  they 
do  not  belong  anywhere.  We  do  not  provide 
suitable  and  accessible  places  for  their  play- 
things. Our  collars  and  laces  would  fare  ill 
if  we  were  expected  to  keep  them  in  the 
same  box  with  our  slippers  and  overshoes. 
Yet,  when  Tommy  throws  his  skates  on  to  the 
same  shelf  in  the  same  closet  where  Fanny 
keeps  her  wax  doll,  much  to  the  damage  of 
dolly's  nose,  we  scold  Fanny  and  tell  her  she 
can't  have  any  more  nice  things  till  she  learns 
to  take  better  care  of  them  !  Ought  we  to 
blame  a  child,  when  his  playthings  arc  kept 
in  a  closet  at  the  end  of  a  long,  dark  passage- 
way, if  he  dreads  to  put  them  up,  and  runs 
off  when  he  can,  leaving  you  to  "  pick  up " 
after  him  ? 

It  will  be  a  good  deal  easier  for  you  to  do 
all  this  yourself  than  to  teach  him  to  do  it. 
It  will  be  much  more  convenient  for  you  to 
clear  away  blocks  than  to  stand  over  him  and 
direct  his  efforts  and  insist  that  no  other  play 
shall  be  begun  till  these  things  are  put  in 
their  places ;  but  mothers  must  not  ask  what 
is  the  easiest  way,  but  what  is  best. 


168  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

Of  course,  even  if  they  have  the  responsi- 
bility of  keeping  their  play-place  in  order,  you 
will  have  to  exercise  considerable  supervision. 
But  a  few  minutes  of  your  practiced  hand, 
when  you  are  making  your  morning  rounds, 
will  straighten  out  a  good  many  matters.  The 
children  can  spend  an  hour  or  two  occasion- 
ally on  a  rainy  day,  under  your  direction, 
playing,  "  clean  house."  Just  think  what 
"  eternal  vigilance "  our  houses  demand  of  us, 
and  be  charitable  towards  the  children's  short- 
comings in  their  domains. 

Other  people's  children,  visitors,  not  so  care- 
fully trained  as  yours,  perhaps  will  sometimes 
bring  dismay  and  disorder.  I  knew  a  mother 
who  was  much  annoyed  by  her  child-visitors, 
who  would  scatter  everything  over  the  floor 
till  the  instant  of  departure  arrived,  then  leave 
the  poor  little  host,  tired  and  flushed,  to  do  the 
"  cleaning-up,"  which,  of  course,  seemed  very 
stupid  after  the  fun  was  all  over  and  the 
company  gone.  She  told  her  boy  when  he 
went  visiting  that  he  might  stay  five  minutes 
after  the  time  set  for  coming  home  to  help 
his  little  playmates  put  their  things  away. 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  169 

Whether  the  mothers  took  the  hint  and  gave 
their  children  similar  directions,  I  have  never 
heard.  But  perhaps  you  cannot  set  apart  and 
warm  a  room  expressly  for  the  children.  Or 
even  if  you  could,  they  may  be  too  young 
and  timid  to  be  happy  away  from  you.  There 
is  no  place  quite  like  mamma's  room,  after  all. 
I  must  tell  you  the  experience  of  a  friend  of 
mine,  who  found,  as  you  have,  that  there 
must  be  a  definite  place  for  this  kind  of 
work.  She  could  not  spare  another  room,  so 
after  some  experimenting  she  made  a  "  chil- 
dren's corner"  in  her  own  room.  She  got 
papa  to  make  them  a  low,  broad  table  out  of 
some  extra  extension-table  leaves  nailed  firmly 
to  a  support  just  high  enough  to  match  the 
children's  little  chairs.  She  nailed  down  a 
small  drugget  in  a  sunny,  pleasant  corner, 
making,  as  it  were,  a  little  room  in  the  large 
room.  The  low  table  and  the  little  chairs 
stood  in  the  middle  of  this  tiny  room,  a  waste- 
basket  stood  on  one  side  of  the  table,  and  a 
small  commode  on  the  other.  The  children 
could  sit  at  their  work  and  throw  the  waste 
papers  into  the  basket,  or  take  their  books 


I/O  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

and  pictures  out  of  the  commode  almost  with- 
out leaving  their  seats.  Here  they  sat  and 
made  scrap  books,  and  drew  and  painted 
pictures,  and  cut  paper  dolls,  and  "  played  tea- 
party  "  whenever  the  fancy  pleased  them.  It 
was  always  ready.  There  were  no  chairs  to 
be  dragged  out  of  their  places,  or  a  table  to 
be  cleared  off  before  they  could  begin  their 
operations.  If  in  the  intervals  of  dressing  or 
undressing,  there  was  a  spare  moment  long 
enough  to  cut  out  or  paste  in  a  picture,  it 
was  done.  It  was  not  difficult  to  keep  in 
tolerable  order  either,  for  the  pictures  were 
kept  in  a  large  box  which  easily  shoved  into 
the  closet.  The  scissors  and  paste  had  their 
appropriate  and  accessible  places.  All  the 
"litter"  was  kept  within  the  line  of  the  drug- 
get, and  anything  found  outside  of  it,  or 
on  the  floor,  after  one  notice  of  clearing- 
up  time,  was  liable  to  confiscation.  After  the 
scissors  and  pencils  had  been  put  on  a  high 
shelf  for  some  hours,  they  learned  to  keep 
them  where  they  belonged,  and  the  comfort, 
to  the  children  and  the  relief  to  the  mother 
of  such  a  place  was  almost  incalculable. 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  \J I 

I  have  seen  a  broad  window  shelf  used  as 
a  place  for  older  children  to  keep  their  writ- 
ing and  drawing  materials,  where  they  wrote 
their  little  letters  and  did  all  that  miscellaneous 
scribbling  so  dear  to  their  hearts  and  so 
troublesome  to  older  people.  A  hanging  scrap- 
bag  received  the  bits  of  paper,  a  small  broom 
and  toy  dustpan  stood  in  the  corner  close  by, 
and  they  were  expected  to  leave  things  tidy 
when  they  finished  their  literary  labors,  or  ran 
the  risk  of  being  called  in  from  some  delight- 
ful play  to  do  it. 

For  their  other  plays  you  will  need  to  pro- 
vide other  places  according  to  circumstances 
and  your  other  household  arrangements.  For 
instance,  give  up  one  of  the  lower  shelves  of 
your  library  book-case  for  their  picture  and 
story  books.  Let  the  girls  have  a  hall-chamber 
for  their  dolls'  houses,  where  boys  are  not 
allowed  except  in  slippers  and  "on  good 
behavior."  If  you  encourage  and  help  them 
and  protect  them  from  the  boys'  inroads,  they 
will  Icaru  to  make  and  keep  their  dolls'  beds 
very  dainty  with  pillow  shams  and  lace  cano- 
pies. Give  the  boys  a  corner  in  the  wood- 


1/2  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

shed  or  attic,  for  their  bench  and  tools,  and 
you  will  be  able  to  solve  more  or  less  satis- 
factorily the  problem  of  where  to  keep  the 
children's  things. 

I  know  a  household  where  the  boys'  turn- 
ing-lathe and  jig-saw  occupies  a  corner  of  the 
back-parlor  opposite  the  piano.  A  large  square 
of  oil-cloth  protects  the  carpet  and  defines  the 
boundaries,  but  there  the  boys  make  chess-men 
and  chips,  wall-pockets  and  saw-dust,  right  "in 
the  midst  of  things."  Not  every  mother  could 
or  would  give  up  her  back-parlor,  but  many 
mothers  would  be  willing  to  set  up  a  jig-saw 
in  every  corner  of  the  house  if  it  would 
insure  her  boys  growing  up  into  such  fine, 
manly  fellows,  such  a  help  and  comfort,  as  this 
mother's  sons  are  to  her. 

Another  very  important  thing,  and  one  too 
often  forgotten,  is  to  teach  the  children  to 
respect  each  other's  property.  Let  each  child 
have  his  or  her  shelf  or  drawer  for  his  most 
precious  possessions,  and  allow  no  one  else  to 
molest  it.  Give  the  older  children  the  high 
shelves,  out  of  the  reach  of  the  younger  ones, 
for  their  treasures.  It  is  not  a  small  matter 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  1/3 

to  come  home  from  school  and  find  that  some- 
thing very  precious  has  been  ruined  beyond 
repair,  and  to  be  carelessly  told  in  excuse, 
"  Oh,  the  baby  got  it ! "  I  fear  we  do  not 
always  appreciate  how  much  suffering  the 
havoc  of  the  "  baby "  causes  the  older  ones. 
And  see  that  you  respect  their  rights,  too. 
It  may  be  nothing  but  a  ragged  bit  of  lace, 
or  a  string  tied  to  a  button,  which  you  are 
sweeping  into  the  dustpan,  but  if  you  are  as 
well  acquainted  with  your  children's  pastimes 
as  you  ought  to  be,  you  will  recognize  dolly's 
best  lace  collar  or  a  part  of  Ned's  "machinery." 
It  is  only  in  your  eyes  a  stray  picture  from 
an  old  magazine,  or  perhaps  a  cast-off  blank 
book  which  you  are  throwing  into  the  fire, 
but  it  is  the  frontispiece  for  Jane's  scrap-book, 
or  Mary's  diary,  precious  to  her  soul.  It 
takes  only  a  minute  to  rescue  these  trifles  and 
put  them  in  their  places,  and  that  minute  is 
well  and  wisely  spent ;  for  in  it  you  have 
shown  your  sympathy  with  your  children's 
pleasures  and  gives  them  a  practical  lesson  on 
the  rights  of  property. 

All    these   things   are   a   deal    of    trouble    and 


1/4  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

make  a  woman  a  slave  to  her  children,  you 
say.  Yes  ;  but  isn't  it  better  to  be  a  "  slave  " 
to  the  children  than  to  the  children's  clothes  ? 
and  many  mothers  are  willing  bond-servants  to 
them.  A  child  once  said  to  her  mother  who 
was  complaining  of  the  care  she  was,  "  If  you 
don't  want  to  take  care  of  a  little  girl,  what 
do  you  keep  one  for?"  Children  must  respect 
grown-up  people's  feelings,  of  course,  but  grown- 
up people  must  respect  their  necessities.  Amuse- 
ments of  some  kind  they  must  and  will  have. 
It  depends  upon  you  whether  they  have  them 
under  your  eye  and  with  your  cordial  cooperation, 
or  whether,  repressed  and  chidden  at  home,  they 
steal  slyly  away  to  other  and  quieter,  but 
perhaps  disreputable  sports.  To  forbid  children 
doing  everything  they  like  is  not  training 
them,  any  more  than  merely  chaining  up  a  dog 
will  teach  him  to  be  a  good  watch-dog.  Chil- 
dren who  are  constantly  hushed  and  repressed, 
so  far  from  being  trained,  grow  up  spiritless 
and  subdued,  or  sullen  and  defiant.  Even 
noise,  trying  as  it  is  to  us,  is  a  necessary 
part  of  a  child's  life,  just  as  is  his  constant 
restless  activity.  To  play  "  bear "  or  "  blind 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  1/5 

man's  buff"  without  the  noise  is,  as  Kingsley 
says  of  something  else,  like  playing  '  Hamlet ' 
with  the  part  of  Hamlet  left  out,  and  the 
ghost  and  queen  into  the  bargain."  It  is  not 
always,  or  even  usually,  the  quietest  children 
who  are  the  most  trusty.  Said  a  lady  of 
much  experience  in  a  boys'  boarding-school, 
"  I  often  think  that  these  noisy  fellows  who 
'  slam  and  bang '  around  their  rooms  and  wear 
out  the  carpets  and  nick  the  crockery,  are  not 
half  as  apt  to  have  vicious  habits  as  those 
quiet  sly  fellows  who  always  move  about  as  if 
they  had  rubbers  on.  We  should  give  our 
children  plenty  of  well-regulated  liberty,  but 
keep  the  "  veto "  power  in  our  own  hands. 

Do  not  be  troubled.  Children  can  be  taught 
to  be  orderly  without  becoming  precise  little 
prigs,  and  they  can  have  jolly  good  times 
without  being  riotous. 

I  had  nearly  forgotten  your  question  about 
neighborly  visiting  back  and  forth  among  chil- 
dren. You  say  you  live  in  a  street  rich  in 
children,  and  that  it  sometimes  seems  as  if 
your  four,  and  Mrs.  Brown's  three,  and  Mrs. 
Jones's  two,  were  too  many  for  one  yard  or 


176  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

house  at  once.  That  seems  quite  likely.  Now 
what  can  you  do  about  it  ?  You  do  not  want 
to,  and  could  not  if  you  did,  keep  your  chil- 
dren secluded  by  themselves.  They  ought  to 
play  more  or  less  with  other  children,  but  this 
promiscuous  running  to  and  fro  without  any 
restrictions  keeps  them  under  continual  excite- 
ment and  makes  them  dissatisfied  with  any 
quiet  home  pleasures.  They  all  get  too  tired, 
and  then  begin  to  quarrel,  and  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult to  settle  disputes  between  different  sets 
of  children,  brought  up  under  different  home 
governments  and  with  different  ideas  of  justice. 
You  have  taken  pains  to  provide  your  children 
with  croquet  and  hammock,  balls  and  kites  and 
carts.  You  have  made  rules  as  to  their  use, 
and  penalties  as  to  their  abuse.  But  you  can- 
not enforce  those  rules  for  other  people's  chil- 
dren, and  if  they  destroy  your  children's  property, 
either  accidentally  or  carelessly,  what  redress 
have  you  ?  You  can  only  comfort  the  grief  of 
your  child  as  best  you  can,  and,  if  your  purse 
is  long  enough,  buy  a  new  toy.  Besides  all 
this,  it  is  not  agreeable  to  have  a  troop  of 
noisy  children  go  tramping  through  your  house 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  1/7 

at  all  times.  Even  well-taught  children  "forget 
their  manners "  in  the  eagerness  of  their  play. 
I  have  known  children  of  well-bred  families 
\v?.lk  boldly  into  the  sleeping-rooms  of  grown 
people  without  knocking,  or  even  regarding 
closed  doors,  watching  with  curious  eyes  the 
unpacking  of  trunks,  the  fitting  of  dresses,  or 
even  the  progress  of  toilet  operations. 

Yes,  you  say ;  but  will  not  my  neighbors 
think  I  am  proud  and  exclusive  if  I  do  not 
allow  my  children  to  play  with  theirs  ?  Very 
likely  some  will ;  but  have  you  not  a  right  to 
defend  yourself  and  children  against  intrusion  ? 
Our  neighbor's  good  opinion  is  worth  having 
if  it  does  not  cost  too  much.  But  a  rigid 
exclusion  is  not  best,  nor  necessary.  A  play 
of  a  few  hours  together  between  children  of 
different  families  is  a  good  thing.  Let  the 
visits  be  worth  asking  for,  and  have  definite 
limits,  then  the  children  enjoy  them,  and  the 
mothers  know  what  to  expect.  An  invitation 
to  dinner  or  tea  becomes  a  real  treat  under 
such  circumstances.  This  will  seem  exclusive 
to  some,  I  know.  I  remember  the  wide-eyed 
surprise  with  which  a  mother  accosted  me  one 


178  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

day  when  I  went  after  my  little  girl  who  had 
overstaid  her  time  at  her  house. 

"Why,"  said  she,  "do  you  expect  she  will 
come  home  at  the  time  you  say,  and  do  you 
feel  worried  if  she  don't  ?  My  children  go  off 
in  the  morning  Saturdays,  and  if  I  don't  see 
them  until  afternoon,  I  know  they  are  at  some 
of  the  neighbors  and  I  don't  worry  a  bit ! " 

Perhaps  the  neighbors  did,  however !  If  you 
do  not  allow  your  children  to  run  into  your 
neighbors'  houses  without  permission,  they  will 
not  be  apt  to  allow  theirs  to  come  into  yours 
without  similar  restrictions.  And,  isn't  it  quite 
possible  that  your  children,  who  probably  are 
no  cherubs,  but  very  human,  trouble  your 
neighbors  in  all  these  ways,  and  that  instead 
of  feeling  hurt  at  reasonable  restrictions  on 
their  visits,  they  really  would  be  quite  relieved  ? 
These  things  bear  turning  round  sometimes. 

Now,  a  word  about  the  Sunday  question  — 
what  to  do  with  the  little  ones  who  are  too 
young  to  read.  It  is  true  that  if  the  mother 
spends  all  her  spare  time  reading  and  talking 
to  them,  Sunday  is  anything  but  a  day  of  rest 
to  her,  and  the  children  are  apt  to  get  ner- 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER. 

vous  and  restless,  and  by  night  are  "  too  cross 
for  anything."  But  we  recognize  that  the  day 
must  be  made  different  from  others.  It  01 
to  be  the  plcasantest  and  sunniest  of  the  whole 
week.  I  know  of  one  family  in  which  the 
custom  was  adopted  of  giving  some  trifling 
present  on  Sunday  morning  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  It  was  often  nothing  more  than  an  orange 
or  a  bunch  of  white  grapes  or  a  paper  doll, 
but,  slight  as  it  was,  it  marked  the  day  and 
made  it  one  to  be  pleasantly  anticipated.  The 
experiment  has  been  tried  of  having  Sunday 
toys,  or  a  book  of  Sunday  pictures,  not  to  be 
brought  out  except  on  that  day.  Noisy  plays 
should  be  forbidden  —  the  croquet  set  and  the 
carts  should  be  put  away.  If  the  little  girls 
have  their  dolls,  they  are  not  to  make  dresses 
for  them,  but  only  to  take  care  of  them,  just 
as  mamma  takes  care  of  the  baby  on  Sunday. 
It  is  carefully  explained  to  the  little  ones  that 
when  they  get  old  enough  to  read,  they 
be  "too  big"  to  play  on  Sunday.  All 
sets  apart  the  day  as  one  of  quiet  enjoyment, 
and  prepares  them  to  understand  real  Sabbath- 
keeping  when  they  grow  up.  Happy  that  fam- 


ISO  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

ily  where  the  father,  perhaps  too  busy  through 
the  week  to  get  much  acquainted  with  his 
children,  takes  an  hour  or  two  of  the  precious 
Sunday-time  to  talk  or  read  to  them.  -We  hear 
a  great  deal  of  the  value  of  the  mother's  in- 
fluence; the  father's  ought  to  be  just  as  val- 
uable. The  children  need  the  invigorating 

O  O 

influence  of  another  mind,  fresh  from  a  new 
sphere  of  thought  and  action.  Papa's  stories 
are  different  from  mamma's,  and  so  refresh  the 
children.  While  the  weary  mother  steals  away, 
out  of  all  the  children's  chatter  and  confusion 
(so  necessary  and  yet  so  wearisome  when  you 
hear  it  all  the  time)  for  a  precious  quiet  hour 
or  two  all  by  herself,  she  has  the  inexpressible 
comfort  of  feeling  that  the  children  are  not 
left  to  hear  the  gossip  of  servants,  but  are 
being  taught  in  some  things  even  better  than 
she  could  do  it.  Our  younger  children  are 
sometimes  too  much  left  to  feminine  influence. 
The  servants  and  their  day  and  Sunday-school 
teachers  are  almost  always  women ;  good  and 
faithful  ones  they  may  be,  but  the  children 
need  the  masculine  clement  of  strength  and 
enterprise  to  supplement  the  feminine  teachings 


QUESTIONS    OF    ORDER.  l8l 

of  docility  and  gentleness.  One  balances  and 
completes  the  other.  The  girls  ought  to  be 
stimulated  and  strengthened  in  character  by 
contact  with  their  father's  mind.  The  boys 
should  learn  from  his  example  what  true  man- 
liness is.  They  see  sham  manliness  enough 
every  week-day  among  their  school-fellows.  To 
our  busy  business  and  working  men,  Sunday 
is  the  only  time  they  have  to  really  reach 
their  children.  The  fact  that  papa  is  to  be  at 
home  all  day  ought  to  be  the  very  biggest 
and  best  treat  of  the  whole  happy  Sunday- 
time.  I  heard  a  four-year-old  "  tot "  say,  last 
night  in  the  midst  of  the  bed-time  frolic  :  "  Oh, 
isn't  it  most  time  for  Thunday  to  come  again  ? 
I  think  Thunday  is  the  bethtest  of  all." 


LETTERS    TO    A    YOUNG    MOTHER  — 
SECOND  SERIES.— IV. 

OTHER  PEOPLE'S   BIRTHDAYS. 

MY  DEAR :  There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth 

in  one  remark  in  your  last  letter.  There  is 
danger  that  where  so  much  is  done  to  amuse 
children  and  make  them  happy,  that  they  will 
grow  up  selfish  and  exacting.  Here  is  one  of 
the  defects  of  our  American  training.  Every- 
thing is  made  so  pleasant  and  easy  for  our 
young  people  that  they  take  it  for  granted 
that  the  world  was  made  principally  that  they 
might  have  a  good  time  in  it,  but  never  feel 
the  least  responsibility  about  making  a  good 
time  for  anybody  else.  Even  the  path  to  the 
schoolroom  is  made  so  smooth  that  they  feel 
impatient  and  almost  angry  when  they  encoun- 
ter a  real  difficulty.  They  actually  do  not 
practise  self-denial  enough  themselves  to  appre- 
ciate it  in  other  people.  The  last  year's  bon- 
182 


OTHER  PEOPLE'S  BIRTHDAYS.  183 

net  and  worn  glove-tips  of  the  returned  mis- 
sionary lady  awaken  only  a  good-natured 
contempt  in  the  mind  of  the  thoughtless  girl 
whose  mother  has  never  allowed  her  to  look 
shabby,  and  who  thinks  if  anybody  else  does, 
it  is  because  they  don't  know  any  better. 

Our  American  life  tends  in  this  direction.  To 
get  all  the  enjoyment  possible  out  of  life 
without  very  much  thought  whether  anybody 
else  gets  any  pleasure  or  comfort  in  return 
is  the  main-spring  of  too  many  lives.  We  need 
to  watch  ourselves  lest  in  our  desire  to  give 
our  children  a  sunny  childhood  we  forget  to 
teach  them  how  to  make  other  people's  lives 
sunny.  Always  to  receive  and  never  to  give 
is  as  bad  for  children  as  for  grown  people. 
TQT  be  sure  there  is  not  much  they  can  do, 
and  what  they  can  is  worth  very  little  in 
itself,  but  just  because  it  develops  a  generous 
thoughtfulness  for  others,  encourage  them  in 
all  their  little  plans  for  other  people's  pleasure. 
Children  are  naturally  generous,  and  delight  to 
make  and  give  presents  until  they  see  their 
gifts  considered  as  rubbish.  Probably  they 
are,  but  a  great  deal  of  love  can  be  put  into 


184  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

very  common  things.  You  keep  their  birthdays. 
Encourage  them  to  remember  the  birthdays 
of  the  older  members  of  the  family,  even  if 
their  celebrations  are  troublesome  and  their 
presents  useless.  In  the  family  festivals,  let 
them  have  something  to  do  for  somebody  else. 
Do  not  let  all  the  doing  always  be  on  your 
side. 

I  have  seen  seme  very  pretty  little  affairs 
arranged  by  children  for  such  occasions.  I 
remember  one  design  by  a  girl  nine  years 
old,  for  her  mamma's  birthday.  She  dressed 
herself  and  her  sisters  to  represent  the  four 
seasons,  and  each  one  brought  to  the  mother 
a  trifling  gift,  repeating  in  turn  a  line  of  a 
verse  of  poetry  she  had  found  in  an  illumin- 
ated calendar. 

The  youngest,  dressed  in  her  best  white 
dress,  trimmed  with  artificial  apple-blossoms 
and  lilies  of  the  valley,  and  carrying  her 
present  in  a  tiny  basket,  hidden  among  spring 
flowers,  represented  spring.  As  she  handed 
her  present  to  her  mother,  she  said : 

First   beautiful  spring,  with  flowers  and  song. 


OTHER  PEOPLE'S  BIRTHDAYS.  185 

Summer,  also  in  white,  with  bright  ribbons, 
followed  with  her  gift,  saying : 

S 
Next,   rosy  summer  comes  tripping  along. 

Autumn  glowing  in  a  garnet  dress,  and 
wearing  a  wreath  of  bright  leaves  and  wheat, 
brought  her  present  in  a  basket  of  red  apples, 
and  repeated  : 

Then   blushing   autumn,   with  rich  fruits   laden, 

while, 

Last,  sober  winter,   cold   thoughtful   maiden, 

clad  all  in  white,  with  a  band  of  swan's  down 
around  her  head,  drew  out  her  gift  from  a 
large  cornucopia  filled  with  cotton,  to  repre- 
sent snow. 

Of  course,  the  mother  had  been  consulted, 
and  had  given  permission  to  use  the  finery, 
She  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  occasion, 
and  gave  advice  and  made  suggestions,  but 
was  conveniently  blind  till  everything  was  com- 
plete. It  occupied  the  children  for  the  best 


1 86  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

part  of  the  afternoon,  and  under  all  the  fun 
of  the  thing  was  the  pleasant  consciousness 
that  they  really  were  doing  something  for  the 
happiness  of  mamma,  who  had  done  so  much 
for  them. 

These  same  children  were  greatly  amused 
with  the  pictures  and  poetry  in  "  St.  Nicholas " 
of  the 

Three  wise   old  women   were   they,   were  they, 
Who   went   to   walk   on   a   winter's   day — 
One   carried   a   basket   to   hold   some   berries, 
One   carried   a  ladder   to   climb  for   cherries; 
The  third,   and   she   was   the   wisest   one, 
Carried  a  fan  to   keep   off  the   sun. 

So  they  "made  a  game  of  it"  for  a  Thanks- 
giving evening  celebration.  They  appeared  sud- 
denly in  the  sitting-room,,  dressed  like  old 
women,  with  marvellous  bonnets,  one  with  a 
huge  market  basket,  the  little  three-year-old 
with  a  great  palm-leaf  fan,  almost  as  big  as 
she  was,  and  the  oldest  carrying  the  family 
step-ladder.  When  the  wind  blew  them  all 
away,  one  of  the  audience  had  to  represent 
wind,  and  lay  the  ladder  down,  and  it  was 


OTHER  PEOPLE'S  BIRTHDAYS.  187 

quite  a  comical  sight  to  see  them  bail  out 
the  imaginary  water  and  attend  to  their  bon- 
nets and  their  balance  at  the  same  time. 

On  another  occasion,  with  the  help  of  play- 
mates, they  added  the  "  Three  Wise  Men "  to 
the  performance,  though  this  was  more  diffi- 
cult. 

Another  family  of  boys  and  girls,  a  little 
older,  were  always  getting  up  tableaux  and 
burlesque-opera  entertainments  for  their  father's 
birthdays.  It  was  no  end  of  trouble,  and  old 
clothes  and  the  tableaux  did  not  always  "pre- 
serve the  unities,"  but  they  were  pleasant 
recollections  long  after  the  merry  boys  and 
girls  were  fathers  and  mothers  themselves. 

I  saw  another  birthday  celebration  once,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  it.  The  mother's  birthday 
had  come  too  soon  for  the  child's  calculation, 
and  there  was  no  preparation  made.  The 
oldest,  a  sensitive,  loving  child  of  seven  years, 
was  overwhelmed  with  grief,  and  sobbed, 
"Mamma  is  ahvays  giving  us  something,  and 
getting  up  things  for  us,  and  now  we  have 
forgotten  her.  Oh  !  dear,  dear  !  " 

Close    by   stood   a   little   basketful    of    stones, 


1 88  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

picked  up  in  their  afternoon  ramble  —  just 
such  stones  as  you  can  find  in  any  New 
England  pasture  lot  or  by  any  stone  wall. 
But  the  white,  imperfect  quartz  crystals  and 
the  shining  little  bits  of  mica  seemed  very 
beautiful  to  the  child.  Suddenly  she  noticed 
the  basket.  There  was  a  hurried  consultation 
with  her  younger  sister,  a  great  parade  of 
secrecy  and  business,  a  rattling  of  stones  in 
the  kitchen  washbasin,  and  much  dancing 
about  and  shouts,  of  "  Now,  mamma,  we've 
got  something  for  your  birthday.  Don't  look 
into  that  basket!  Now,  don't  guess  —  oh! 
you  never  can  guess  what  it  is ! " 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  there  was 
something  on  mamma's  plate,  heaping  up  the 
napkin  so  carefully  spread  over  it. 

When  the  napkin  was  lifted  there  was 
nothing  but  the  little  heap  of  shining  stones, 
but  the  children  were  as  happy  as  if  they 
had  been  gold  and  diamonds.  Said  the  young- 
est :  "  Mamma,  I  picked  out  the  very  prettiest 
the  very  whitest  and  shiny-est;"  and  the 
oldest  added,  "  We  washed  them  just  as  care- 
fully  last  night." 


OTHER  PEOPLE'S  BIRTHDAYS.  189 

The   father   said   afterward : 

"  They  came  to  me  in  the  evening  in  great 
glee,  for  now  they  had  something  for  mamma, 
and  they  showed  me  the  stones,  all  wet  and 
dripping  in  the  basket — about  as  pitiful  a 
thing  for  a  present  as  could  be  imagined." 

A  trifle,  you  say,  but  the  love  and  delight 
that  went  with  that  worthless  little  pile  of 
stones  could  not  be  counted  by  dollars.  Xo 
wonder  the  mother's  eyes  grew  dim  as  she 
looked  from  the  stones  heaped  up  on  her 
plate  to  the  glowing  faces  of  the  children,  and 
that  she  carefully  put  the  stones  away.  Trifles 
like  these  are  the  very  dearest  of  treasures 
to  a  mother's  heart,  if  some  day  the  bright 
eyes  that  shone  with  delight  are  forever  shut 
from  her  sight,  and  the  busy  little  hands  are 
folded  still  and  cold. 

You  never  know  how  long  you  and  your 
children  will  have  each  other.  At  best,  they 
will  not  be  little  children  always.  Make  the 
life  which  you  live  together  as  happy  and  as 
full  of  yourself  as  possible.  If  you  can  do 
but  little,  put  plenty  of  love  and  sunshine 
into  that  little.  It  is  worth  a  great  deal  to 


I9O  TWENTY-SIX  HOURS  A  DAY. 

have  them  to  grow  up  with  the  habit  of 
being  happy.  If  this  habit  comes  —  not  because 
every  wish  is  gratified,  but  because  they  are 
always  busy  at  some  cheerful  or  helpful  work, 
never  fear  that  they  will  grow  up  querulous 
and  selfish.  Children  so  trained  are  not  apt 
to  fall  into  fashionable  listlessness,  or  to  give 
themselves  up  to  idle  grief,  if  disappointment 
and  sorrow  come  into  their  maturer  lives. 

The  effect  of  such  a  home  atmosphere  as 
this  is  incalculable.  It  not  only  tends  to 
strengthen  and  purify  each  separate  individual 
in  the  family,  but  its  influence  is  still  deeper 
and  more  far-reaching.  Whatever  tends  to 
make  our  family  life  purer  and  stronger  is 
doing  the  best  and  noblest  service  for  society. 
Here  we  must  look  for  our  strongest  bulwark 
against  the  rising  tides  of  evil  that  beat  against 
our  social  system. 

We  women  listen  to  the  growl  of  the  storm 
in  other  countries ;  we  tremble  for  our  own, 
and  feel  so  useless  and  insignificant! 

Brave  little  Holland  keeps  the  whole  mighty 
Atlantic  at  bay  with  her  dykes  of  common- 
place earth  and  stones  and  turf  —  mere  every- 


OTHER  PEOPLE  S  BIRTHDAYS.         IQI 

day  material.  Take  courage,  weary  mother. 
Your  life  may  seem  to  you  not  much  more 
than  a  dreary  grind,  day  after  day,  to  sup- 
ply the  physical  wants  of  your  children  ;  but  if 
they  grow  up  to  love  and  honor  you  be- 
cause you  deserve  their  love  and  honor  —  if  they 
go  out  from  you  to  build  up  other  homes 
like  the  one  you  have  made  to  them  the 
purest  and  sweetest  place  on  earth,  you  have 
built  a  few  rods  of  dyke  over  against  your  own 
house,  and  so  have  built,  not  for  yourself  alone, 
but  for  all  society  —  not  for  to-day  alone,  but 
for  all  time. 


A  MOTHER'S  DREAM  OF  HEAVEN. 

IT  had  been  an  unusually  wearisome  day. 
It  had  seemed  to  the  poor  mother  as  if  Puck 
himself  had  possessed  the  younger  children, 
while  the  older  ones  had  been  self-willed  and 
disobedient.  A  sullen  and  careless  servant  had 
made  her  feel  that  everything  was  going  wrong 
down-stairs,  yet  she  had  been  tied  hand  and 
foot  to  the  nursery  with  the  fretful,  exacting 
children.  As  if  to  try  her  over-worked  nerves 
to  the  utmost,  a  strong  wind  had  kept  every 
loose  blind  and  door  banging  and  shaking,  till 
every  fibre  of  her  weary  frame  responded  with 
a  confused  sense  of  hurry  and  unrest. 

She  wanted  to  do  so  much  for  her  children, 
for  their  souls  as  well  as  for  their  bodies,  and 
to-day  she  had  worked  so  hard  and  accom- 
plished so  little.  She  had  long  ago  given  up 
fine  clothes  and  luxurious  living  for  the  sake 

192 


A  MOTHER'S  DREAM  OF  HEAVEN.          193 

of  having  time  to  care  for  their  higher  needs, 
but  sometimes  she  was  obliged  to  neglect 
these.  She  thought  hopelessly  to-night  of  the 
necessary  time  she  had  spent  in  the  care  of 
their  physical  wants,  of  the  imperative  demands 
of  every  moment,  and  felt  that  she  had  done 
nothing  all  day  for  their  minds,  their  manners, 
or  their  morals.  So  she  was  weary,  not  with 
bodily  fatigue  merely,  but  with  the  tenfold 
heavier  burden  of  unsuccessful  toil,  and  unac- 
complished endeavor.  Now  the  night  had  come, 
and  the  little  ones  slept  in  their  white-covered 
beds.  "  At  last,"  she  sighed  gratefully,  then 
reproached  herself:  "What  should  I  do  without 
them  ? "  She  sat  before  the  nursery  fire  with 
the  baby  peacefully  sleeping  in  her  arms.  As 
she  gazed  down  on  the  placid  little  face,  and 
heard  the  steady  breathing  from  the  little 
beds,  there  stole  over  her  that  feeling  of  rest 
and  relief,  which  comes  only  to  the  tired 
mother  when  all  the  restless  little  ones  are 
safe  in  bed.  She  laid  the  baby  softly  in  her 
cradle  and  tenderly  tucked  her  in.  It  was  not 
quite  time  for  the  father's  home-coming,  and 
she  took  up  half  mechanically  a  magazine  lying 


IQ4  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

on     the     table.       Listlessly    turning    its    leaves, 
her   eye   caught  these  words : 

Like   a  cradle  rocking,   rocking, 

Silent,  peaceful,   to   and   fro  — 
Like   a   mother's   sweet  looks   dropping, 

On  the  little   face   below  — 
Hangs   the  green    earth,   swinging,   turning, 

Jarless,   noiseless,   safe   and   slow; 
Falls  the   light   of  God's   face   bending 

Down,   and   watching   us  below. 

And   as   feeble   babes  that   suffer, 

Toss   and  cry,   and  will  not  rest, 
Are   the   ones   the    tender   mother 

Holds   the   closest,   loves  the  best  — 
So   when   we   are   weak   and   wretched, 

By   our  sins   weighed  down,  distressed, 
Then   it  is   that   God's   great  patience 

Holds   us   closest,   loves  us    best. 

She  leaned  her  head  back  against  her  chair 
and  closed  her  eyes.  The  image  of  "  the  green 
earth  swinging  jarless,  noiseless,  safe  and  slow," 
was  very  grateful  to  her.  She  thought  how 
God's  loving  care  extended  not  only  over  the 
green  earth,  but  to  all  the  creatures  on  it ;  of 
the  little  sparrows  in  their  .nests,  of  the 


A  MOTHER'S  DREAM  OF  HEAVEN.  195 

"young  ravens  who  cry,"  how  "He  opens  his 
hand  and  satisfies  the  desire  of  every  living 
thing."  Gradually  these  thoughts  unfolded  as 
it  were  into  a  fair  vision.  She  seemed  up- 
borne on  the  pinions  of  some  mighty  bird, 
balanced  motionless  in  mid-heaven  over  a  vast 
expanse  of  mountains  and  hills  stretching  away 
inimitably  into  blue  and  purple  billows,  rising, 
receding,  fading  away  far  out  on  the  horizon 
line.  Near  at  hand  the  mountains  lifted  their 
gray  summits  towards  the  upper  air.  Their 
mighty  buttresses  sweeping  downward  to  the 
valleys  were  seamed  with  deep  ravines  where 
here  and  there  twinkling  lights  were  reflected 
from  placid  lakes  or  distant  thread-like  rivers. 
Everywhere  was  vastness,  stability,  strength  — 
perfect  peace.  The  largeness,  of  the  prospect 
lifted  her  above  her  petty  cares  and  vexations ; 
her  soul  was  calmed  and  strengthened  by  the 
strong,  calm  mountains.  Over  all  the  glo- 
rious October  sunshine  seemed  to  fall  flood- 
ing and  suffusing  everything ;  a  sunshine  that 
warmed,  but  did  not  scorch ;  that  glowed,  but 
did  not  dazzle.  Then  the  words  she  had  so 
often  heard  came  softly  into  her  mind  with 


196  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

a  new  meaning.  "They  need  no  candle, 
neither  light  of  the  sun,  for  the  Lord  God 
giveth  them  light,"  and  she  knew  it  was  not 
sunshine  that  filled  the  golden  air,  but  the 
living  light  of  God's  presence.  There  came 
slowly  a  sense  of  a  vast  ineffable  tenderness,  a 
mighty  love  brooding  and  leaning  over  the  whole 
wide  expanse  of  lifted  peak  and  rounded  summit, 
wooded  valley  and  distant  shining  river,  as  a 
mother's  face  radiant  with  the  love  she  cannot 
speak,  bends  over  the  cradle  of  her  sleeping 
child.  She  seemed  encircled  and  upheld  by 
the  "everlasting  arms,"  gathered  close  and 
warm  near  to  his  mighty  presence.  Upon  her 
soul  fell  a  "peace  past  understanding,"  and 
softly  like  the  sound  of  distant  music  came 
the  words, 

'I   lie   within  the   light     of  God 

As  I  lie  upon  your  breast, 
Where  the  wicked   cease   from  troubling, 
And  the  weary  are  at   rest. 

The  vision  slowly  faded.  The  baby  stirred 
softly  in  the  cradle.  The  quick  mother-ear 
heard  the  little  rustle,  and  she  opened  her 


A  MOTHERS  DREAM  OF  HEAVEX.      197 

eyes  again  on  the  familiar  scene.  The  moun- 
tain glory  had  vanished,  the  golden  glow  had 
departed,  but  the  peace  and  rest  remained. 
She  felt  yet  the  encircling  and  upholding  love, 
the  tenderness  of  the  unseen  radiant  face,  and 
for  many  days  "  as  one  whom  his  mother 
comforteth,"  so  did  God  comfort  her. 


HOW  A  MAN  TAKES   CARE  OF   HIS 
BABY. 

IN  spite  of  all  the  statements  to  the  con- 
trary, there  are  men  who  help  take  care  of 
their  children.  They  are  the  kindest  and  best 
husbands  in  the  world.  They  do  not  wish  to 
see  their  wives  overburdened  with  care  and 
worry,  and  they  intend  to  help  them  a  great 
deal,  and  actually  do.  Yet  it  cannot  be  de- 
nied, that  their  opinion  concerning  the  «value 
of  their  services  and  their  wives'  opinion  on 
the  same  subject  do  not  exactly  coincide. 
One  of  these  good  husbands  will  help  dress 
the  children  for  breakfast,  and  speak  of  it  with 
a  grandly  virtuous  air,  while  the  fact  is  that 
he  only  washed  the  face  of  one  while  his 
wife  washed  and  dressed  the  other  three.  He 
helps  get  the  children  ready  for  church ;  that 
is,  he  buttons  up  Dick's  boots,  and  helps  Jenny 

198 


HOW    A    MAN    TAKES    CARE    OF    HIS^BABY.      199 

put  on  her  gloves  after  he  has  leisurely  and 
comfortably  dressed  himself,  while  his  wife 
ties  sashes,  and  hunts  up  odd  gloves,  and  puts 
on  collars,  and  curls  one  child's  hair  and 
washes  another's  hands,  and  in  the  intervals 
"  does  up "  her  own  hair,  and  saves  the  baby 
from  the  razor,  and  Jenny's  best  bonnet  from 
the  baby.  He  stands  patiently  (?)  in  the  hall 
as  the  bells  begin  to  toll,  and  mildly  calls, 
"It  is  getting  late,  Maria,"  which  fact  Maria 
knows  as  well  as  he  does,  for  her  hands  are 
trembling  so  with  nervousness  and  haste  that 
she  can  hardly  put  a  single  pin  in  its  right  place. 
Just  as  the  last  strokes  of  the  bell  are  sound- 
ing, they  hurry  off  to  church,  losing  entirely 
the  calming  influence  which  comes  from  a 
leisurely  walk  on  a  fine  Sunday  morning.  He 
takes  the  opportunity  to  remark,  with  just  a 
shade  of  reproof  in  his  gentle  tones,  "  I 
can't  understand  why  it  takes  you  so  long  to 
get  ready.  It  really  does  seem  with  all  I  help 
you,  we  need  not  be  obliged  to  hurry  so.  I 
don't  like  to  see  you  go  up  the  aisle  with  your 
face  as  red  as  a  lobster," — which  of  course  is 
very  soothing  to  Maria's  irritated  nerves. 


2OO  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

The  father  cares  for  the  baby  at  night  in 
very  much  the  same  fashion.  The  mother  has 
lifted  the  child  into  her  own  bed,  and  back 
into  its  cradle  again,  in  the  vain  hope  that 
in  one  place  or  the  other  he  will  go  to  sleep, 
has  brought  "  drinks  of  water "  for  him,  rocked 
the  cradle  and  sang  to  its  uneasy  occupant 
softly  and  sleepily  for  an  hour,  till  finally  she 
thinks  that  if  she  is  to  be  in  this  semi-amphib- 
ious state,  half  out  of  bed  and  half  in,  the 
air  from  the  open  window  is  too  cool  for 
her.  She  knows  if  she  tries  to  shut  it  her- 
self the  little  tyrant  will  instantly  miss  her 
presence  and  be  ten  times  wider  awake  than 
ever,  and  all  the  hour's  singing  and  rocking 
will  be  labor  lost.  So,  with  much  regret,  she 
softly  asks  John  to  get  up  and  close  the  win- 
dow. He  has  lain  remarkably  still  and  breathed 
rather  heavily,  and  is  somewhat  difficult  to 
arouse  for  a  man  who  afterward  declares  that 
he  was  wide  awake  all  the  time.  But  like  the 
good  husband  he  is,  he  cheerfully  closes  the 
window,  and  gets  an  extra  blanket  for  the 
baby,  and  pleasantly  asks,  as  he  settles  down 
into  the  pillows  again,  "  What  makes  the  baby 


HOW   A    MAN   TAKES    CARE    OF    HIS    BABY.     2OI 

so  uneasy  to-night  ? "  He  manifests  a  strange 
indifference  to  his  wife's  reply,  and  in  fact 
nothing  more  is  heard  from  him  till  morning, 
while  his  wife  sleepily  and  painfully  works 
away  for  an  hour  longer.  But  at  breakfast, 
with  what  calm  complacency  does  he  speak  of 
the  trouble  the  baby  made  us  last  night,  with 
an  "us"  fairly  editorial  in  its  comprehensive- 
ness. The  next  night  he  goes  into  a  room  by 
himself  to  sleep.  He  "can't  stand  it  to  have 
his  rest  broken  so,"  but  adds  generously,  "  I'll 
take  care  of  him  the  next  night."  And  so 
he  does  till  about  twelve  o'clock,  when  the  baby 
wakes  and  cries.  For  ten  minutes  he  tries 
faithfully  to  get  him  to  sleep  again,  and  then 
ignominiously  retreats  and  calls  for  "  mamma." 
But  it  is  in  travelling  on  a  hot  summer's 
day,  with  a  year-old  baby,  that  the  husband's 
virtues  shine  brightest.  Mamma  is  tired  and 
needs  rest.  They  are  going  to  spend  a  week 
with  some  friends  a  day's  journey  in  the  coun- 
try. She  is  half-inclined  to  leave  the  baby  at 
home.  Her  mother  will  "come  over"  and  look 
after  him,  and  "it's  only  for  a  few  days  after 
all."  But  he  says  decidedly,  "Oh,  no!  take 


202  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

him,  by  all  means.  Our  cousins  will  all  want 
to  see  him,  and  he  is  such  a  good  little  fellow. 
I'll  help  you  to  take  care  of  him  on  the 
way,  and  there  will  always  be  somebody  there 
who  will  want  to  amuse  him." 

She,  being  young  and  inexperienced,  has  not 
yet  learned  that  nobody  ever  takes  care  of  a 
baby  to  any  extent,  so  long  as  its  mother  is 
near,  for  both  mother  and  baby  have  notions 
of  their  t  own  as  to  what  «"  taking  care  of" 
means.  Besides,  she-  has  a  mother's  instinctive 
desire  to  keep  her  child  with  her,  and  so 
says  no  more  about  it. 

Then  comes  the  usual  ordeal  of  "getting 
ready,"  on  which  her  husband  makes  the  criti- 
cisms customary  to  men,  who  cannot  under- 
stand why  women  do  not  find  a  clean  pocket- 
handkerchief  and  an  extra  collar  sufficient  addi- 
tional wardrobe  for  a  week,  as  they  do.  How- 
ever, at  last  they  are  ready  to  start.  There 
is  the  large  travelling-bag,  with  all  sorts  of 
mysterious  appurtenances  for  the  baby's  toilet, 
the  little  travelling-bag  with  the  lunch,  and 
some  crackers  and  a  silver  cup  for  the  baby, 
the  shawl-strap  bundle  enormously  swollen  by 


HOW    A    MAN   TAKES    CARE    OF    HIS    BABY.      2O3 

a  small  pillow,  also  for  the  baby,  for  "  he 
might  go  to  sleep  in  the  cars,  you  know." 
(Alas,  how  the  best-laid  schemes  o'  mice  and 
mothers  gang  aft  a-gley !)  And  lastly  the  baby, 
the  largest  and  liveliest  bundle  of  all. 

The  father  sets  out  with  the  best  of  reso- 
lutions. He  is  going  to  take  care  of  that  baby 
all  day.  His  wife  needs  the  rest,  and  she 
shall  have  it.  How  little  we  realize  what  it 
will  cost  us  to  execute  our  good  intentions. 
How  different  they  look  to  us,  when  we  are 
actually  "  under  fire,"  from  what  they  did 
when  in  peace  and  quietness  we  made  them! 
He  places  his  wife  in  the  most  comfortable 
seat  he  can  find,  a  bag  at  her  feet,  a  shawl  at 
her  back,  takes  the  baby  in  his  lap,  and  the 
day's  campaign  begins. 

An  hour  goes  by  very  pleasantly.  The  baby 
is  amused  by  the  novelty  of  the  situation,  and 
his  father  silently  congratulates  himself  on  the 
wisdom  of  his  management.  "  Women  wouldn't 
have  half  the  trouble  they  do  if  they  only  knew  how 
to  manage,"  he  says  to  himself.  Just  here,  the 
newsboy  appears  with  the  morning  papers. 
Secretly  glad  of  a  diversion,  he  buys  a  paper, 


2O4  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A    DAY. 

and  the  baby  goes  to  its  mamma.  The  young 
rascal,  by  this  time  tired  of  sitting  still,  and 
missing  too,  the  steady  support  of  his  father's 
strong  arms,  begins  to  wriggle  and  twist.  He 
slips  down  on  the  floor,  his  mother  lifts  him 
up  again.  He  sits  still  two  seconds  and  a  half, 
and  attracted  by  something  outside,  slips 
down  again  and  stands  tottering  half  a  minute. 
Then  she  drags  him  back  into  her  lap.  Great, 
heavy  fellow !  how  he  pulls  on  her  arms  and 
shoulders.  But  she  is  used  to  it  and  only 

wonders    what    ails    her    arms    and    back    that 

» 

they  get  so  tired  every  day.  She  is  sure  she 
doesn't  do  much  but  take  care  of  that  baby. 
Next,  he  "  flops "  over  upon  the  opposite  seat, 
in  a  few  minutes  "flops"  back,  slips  down  on 
his  mother's  lap,  wriggles  and  twists  awhile, 
gets  a  drink  of  water  from  the  water  boy  and 
spills  it  on  his  mother's  clean  cuffs  and  his 
own  white  dress,  slips  down  again,  and  again 
she  lifts  him  back.  All  this  time  papa  is 
calmly  reading  his  paper.  Having  finished  it 
and  become  convinced  that  the  country  is 
going  to  hold  together  a  little  longer,  he  hands 
the  paper  to  his  wife.  (Did  you  ever  see  a 


HOW   A    MAN    TAKES  «CARE    OF    HIS    BABY. 

man  offer  the  paper  to  his  wife  before  he 
had  read  it  himself,  especially  if  it  was  near 
election  ? )  Yes,  she  would  like  to  look  at  it, 
if  he  will  see  to  the  baby. 

"  Certainly,"  with  the  slightest  shade  of  in- 
jured innocence  in  his  tones,  "haven't  I  done 
so  all  the  morning  ?  Besides,  the  baby  will 
take  care  of  himself,  he  is  big  enough." 

Mamma  is  wisely  silent,  and  begins  to  look 
over  the  paper.  The  young  scamp,  who  never 
thought  of  touching  it  so  long  as  his  father 
had  it,  now  begins  a  series  of  indiscriminate 
dashes  at  it,  which,  combined  withvthe  motion 
of  the  cars,  makes  reading  a  matter  of  diffi- 
culty. 

"  Let  him  have  it,"  says  the  mother,  "  I  am 
too  sleepy  to  read." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  a  nap  ?  It  would  do 
you  good,"  exclaims  the  husband.  "  Let  me 
arrange  a  place  for  you." 

And  in  a  few  minutes  the  shawls  and  bags 
are  arranged  into  a  very  tempting  resting-place 
for  the  tired  mother.  She,  who  rose  at  five 
o'clock  to  get  ready,  willingly  lays  her  head 
back  on  the  shawl  and  closes  her  eyes,  just 


2O6  TWENTY-SIX   HOURS   A   DAY. 

as  the  "  chug-chug "  of  the  cars  begins  to  be 
a  continuous  "  hum-m-m,"  she  is  startled  by  a 
scream  from  the  baby,  who  has  a  suspicious- 
looking  red  spot  over  his  eye.  Papa  looks  a 
little  confused,  and  explains: 

'"Why,  you  see,  he  sat  so  still  that  I 
thought  I  could  read  the  President's  message, 
and  the  first  thing  I  knew  he  had  tumbled 
off  the  seat." 

But  from  the  "  big  bag "  mamma  produces 
arnica  and  an  old  handkerchief,  while  papa 
wonders  how  she  could  have  known  he  was 
going  to  get  bumped,  and  thinks  it  is  not 
such  a  bad  thing  to  "  get  ready "  after  'all. 

"  Never  mind,  he  is  all  right  now.  You  go 
to  sleep  again,  and  I'll  devote  myself  to 
him." 

So,  once  more,  the  weary  eyes  close,  and 
this  time  everything  fairly  fades  out  of  sight, 
and  she  is  in  that  delightful  state  when  one 
is  asleep  just  enough  to  be  conscious  of  the 
comfort  of  it,  when  her  husband  says  : 

"  Maria,  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but 
really  I  think  this  child  is  hungry,  and  I 
can't  find  his  bottle  of  milk." 


HOW    A    MAN    TAKES    CARE    OF    HIS    BABY.      2O/ 

So  she  raises  herself  and  feeds  him.  Of 
course  she  has  slept  only  enough  to  make  it 
impossible  for  her  to  go  to  sleep  again,  but  not 
enough  to  rest  her  very  much. 

By  this  time  they  have  reached  Springfield. 
Papa  gets  out,  buys  a  cup  of  tea  for  mamma, 
walks  up  and  down  the  platform,  exchanges  a 
hearty  word  or  two  with  some  one,  jumps  on 
again  as  the  train  moves  off,  and  leisurely 
walks  into  the  car  just  as  she  has  worked 
herself  into  a  frenzy  of  apprehension  for  fear 
he  is  left.  The  recollection  of  the  fact  that 
he  has  the  tickets  and  the  checks  in  his 
pocket,  and  that  she  has  but  fifty  cents  in 
hers,  does  not  tend  to  calm  her  nerves.  The 
possession  of  a  little  extra  money  is  a  wonder- 
ful sec?}tive  on  such  occasions,  but  men  do 
not  always  think  of  that. 

"  What  a  rest  it  is  to  stop  awhile  ! "  says  he,  as 
he  settles  himself  down  into  the  seat  again.  She, 
shut  up  in  the  stifling  car  in  the  dingy  and 
smoky  depot,  with  the  restless  baby  crawling 
into  and  out  of  her  lap  all  the  while,  wonders 
why  it  has  not  seemed  pleasant  to  her,  but 
only  wonders.  A  woman's  mind  is  not  gener- 


2O8  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS    A   DAY. 

ally  given  to  analyzing  sensations.  Neither  of 
them  thought  what  a  relief  it  would  have  been 
to  both  mother  and  child  if  he  had  taken  the 
baby  up  and  down  the  platform  a  few  times. 

"  Now,  let  us  have  our  lunch,"  he  continues, 
and  the  lunch  iDag  is  opened.  Mamma  eats 
hers  in  the  intervals  of  feeding  the  baby  and 
rescuing  her  own  food  from  his  reckless  grasps. 
As  it  is,  he  manages  to  tip  over  a  cup  of 
milk  upon  the  only  thing  she  really  cares  much 
about.  Papa  eats  his  with  a  vigorous  appetite, 
and  then  says : 

"Well,  now,  you  have  had  your  nap,  and  I 
guess  I'll  take  mine,"  and  forthwith  he  pro- 
ceeds to  sleep  a  good  hour. 

Meanwhile,  mamma  tries  to  get  the  wrig- 
gling baby  to  sleep.  But  no,  the  condensed 
quintessence  of  forty  eels  could  not  be  livelier. 
He  is  on  the  seats,  down  on  the  floor,  and 
up  again  all  at  once,  and  her  back  and  arms 
and  shoulders  ache  again  and  again  with  lift- 
ing him.  Presently  papa  shows  signs  of 
returning  consciousness.  In  sheer  desperation 
mamma  says : 

"  Don't    you     believe     you     could     take    this 


HOW   A    MAN    TAKES    CARE    OF    HIS    BABY.      2O9 

child  in  your  arms  and  get  him  to  sleep  ? " 
adding,  with  a  spice  of  worldly  wisdom,  "  he 
will  be  so  cross  when  he  gets  there,  if  he 
loses  his  nap." 

Papa's  fatherly  pride  is  touched.  He  does 
not  want  his  baby  to  make  a  poor  impression 
on  his  new  friends.  Besides,  mamma  looks  tired, 
and  isn't  he  taking  care  of  that  baby  ?  So, 
with  great  cheerfulness,  he  takes  the  restless 
boy.  The  father's  strong  arms  and  broad 
chest  are  a  pleasant  contrast  to  mamma's  un- 
steady grasp,  and  the  child  nestles  close  up 
to  him.  The  tired  little  head  leans  heavily 
on  his  shoulder,  the  white  lids  droop  over  the 
blue  eyes,  and  in  a  little  while  he  is  fast 
asleep.  Papa  enjoys  holding  the  precious 
bundle  for  awhile.  There  is  a  slight  tinge  of 
complacency  in  thinking  of  the  ease  with 
which  he  put  him  to  sleep,  after  mamma  had 
tried  so  long  in  vain.  Presently,  however,  his 
stout  arms  begin  to  ache,  and  he  proposes  to 
use  the  pillow  which  has  made  the  shawl 
strap  bundle  so  bulky.  So  mamma  prepares  a 
tempting  bed ;  as  soon  as  his  lordship's  head 
touches  it  than  his  eyes  fly  wide  open. 


2IO  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A   DAY. 

The  father  feels  as  if  he  had  done  so  well, 
that  he  deserves  a  little  rest,  and  so  says : 

"There's  a  man  in  the  next  car  I  want  to 
see.  I  guess  I'll  step  in  there  for  a  few  min- 
utes." 

So  off  he  goes  for  half  an  hour,  and  talks 
politics  and  trade  and  hard  times  till  he  feels 
quite  refreshed.  The  baby  is  crosser  than  ever, 
slips  down  and  is  pulled  up,  bumps  his  head 
against  the  window  and  cries  for  water.  But 
the  water  boy  has  apparently  gone  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  Red  Sea  with  Pharaoh  after 
it,  for  he  comes  no  more.  Just  as  the  mother's 
patience  and  temper  are  worn  threadbare,  the 
smiling  father  appears  with  an  old  army  friend 
whom  he  has  just  discovered,  and  whom  he 
wishes  to  introduce  to  his  wife  and  baby. 

Mamma  instinctively  feels,  though  she  can- 
not see,  that  her  bonnet  is  awry,  her  "crimps" 
all  out,  that  the  marks  of  baby's  smutty 
fingers  are  on  her  cuffs  and  collar,  neck-tie 
and  bonnet  strings.  As  for  the  baby  him- 
self!— hair  all  sticky  and  standing,  milk  around 
his  mouth,  dust  on  his  sleeves,  cracker-crumbs 
in  his  lap,  cinders  sticking  all  over  his  moist 


HOW   A   MAN   TAKES   CARE    OF    HIS   BABY.      2 1  I 

little  hands  and  .face,  and  on  every  spot  on 
his  white  dress  where  he  has  spilled  milk  or 
water.  He  is  a  very  different  little  fellow 
from  the  sweet-looking  baby  in  his  fresh 
white  dress  and  brown  sash  who  came  into 
the  cars  in  the  morning.  Mamma  is  so  un- 
comfortably conscious  of  the  baby's  soiled  dress, 
and  her  own  dilapidated  appearance,  and  so 
vexed  at  John  for  bringing  a  stranger  to  see 
them,  when  they  are  in  such  a  plight,  that 
she  is  not  very  entertaining.  John  is  dimly 
conscious  that  his  family  do  not  appear  as 
well  as  usual,  and  wonders  where  the  baby 
got  such  a  dirty  face.  The  old  army  friend 
being  a  bachelor,  is  a  little  surprised  at  his 
comrade's  enthusiasm  over  either  wife  or  baby, 
but  praises  the  child,  according  to  the  elasti- 
city of  his  conscience,  and  does  not  prolong 
the  interview  beyond  the  demands  of  politeness. 
However,  everything  must  have  an  end,  and 
this  journey  is  no  exception.  Already  passen- 
gers are  beginning  to  gather  up  bags  and 
parcels,  and  soon  our  travellers  are  seated  in 
the  coach  which  is  to  carry  them  up  the  "  long 
hill"  to  the  pleasant  farm-house. 


212  TWENTY-SIX    HOURS   A    DAY. 

"  I  am  so  tired ! "  gasps  the  poor  mother, 
and  her  face  confirms  the  truth  of  her  words. 
The  father  feels  distressed,  but  only  says  : 

"  I  am  very  sorry ;  but  never  mind,  we  are 
almost  there,"  while  he  thinks, — "  How  little 
these  women  can  endure !  Here  I  have  taken 
care  of  that  child  all  the  way  up,  and  feel  as  fresh 
as  can  be,  and  she  is  all  tired  out  with  the 
journey.  What  a  pity  our  American  women 
haven't  more  stamina  1" 


SELF-GIVING. 

*  Have  read  with  interest,  and  with  admiration  ot  the  vivid- 
ness and  accuracy  which  characterize  the  descriptions  given." 

—  Rt.  Rev.  Thomas  M.  Clark,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  Rhode  Island 
"  Very  interesting.     A  true  insight ;  literally  truth."  —  Chris- 
tian Observer,  Louisville,  Ky. 

"  It  is  best  that  the  truth  should  be  told  about  this  matter."  — 
The  Budget,  Boston. 

"Important  information.  Highly  interesting  as  a  story."  — 
Lutheran  Observer,  Philadelphia. 

"  Very  instructive.  His  revealments  are  not  at  all  damaging 
to  any  who  regard  them  properly.  \Vish  all  would  read  it."  — 
Journal  and  Messenger,  Cincinnati. 

"Impartial,  thorough  and  attractive." — Journal,  Providence. 

"  Will  receive  a  cordial  welcome  by  a  host  of  his  admirers." 

—  The  Methodist,  Philadelphia. 

"  As  throwing  light  upon  the  practical  features  of  the  mission- 
ary operations  of  to-day,  the  work  has  no  equal  in  missionary 
literature.'' — Advocate  of  Missions,  Nashville,  Tenn. 

"  Illustrates  powerfully  '  Self-Giving.'  Read  intelligently,  the 
influence  of  the  book  will  be  thoroughly  good."  —  President 
Hovey,  Newton  Theo.  Sem. 

"  A  valuable  work,  rich  in  hints  and  suggestions.  —  Sec'y  N 
G.  Clark,  D.  D.,  American  Board. 

"  How  much  we  have  enjoyed  !  All  the  churches  are  greatly 
Indebted." — Rev.  B.  H.  Badley,  Methodist  Missionary,  Luck- 
now,  India. 

"Deserving  and  certain  of  larger  circulation  than  even  same 
author's  Tour  of  Missions."  —  Rev.  J.  Nevius.  D.  D.,  Presby 
terian  Missionary,  China. 


The    Yensie   Walton    Books. 

These  books,  from  the  pen  of  Mrs.  S.  R.  Graham  Clark,  are  possessed 
of  such  conspicuous  merits,  as  to  secure  for  them  the  unqualified  com- 
mendation of  eminent  religious  journals  such  as  the  Central  Christian 
Advocate,  The  Journal  and  Messenger,  The  Neiu  Orleans  Christian 
Advocate,  The  Lutheran  Observer,  Christian  at  Work.  The  Dover 
Morning  Star,  The  Gospel  Banner,  Philadelphia  Methodist,  Herald 
and  Presbyter. 

YENSIE  WALTON.  OUR  STREET. 

YENSIE  WALTON'S  WOMAMHOOD. 
THE  TRIPLE  E.  ACHOR. 

i2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  uniform  binding,  $1-50  each. 
YENSIE  WALTON. 

"  Yensie  Walton,"  by  Mrs.  S.  R.  Graham  Clark.  Boston  :  D.  Loth- 
rop  &  Co.  Full  of  striking  incident  and  scenes  of  great  pathos,  with 
occasional  gleams  of  humor  and  fun  by  way  of  relief  to  the  more  tragic 
parts  of  the  narrative.  The  characters  are  strongly  drawn,  and,  in  gen- 
eral, are  thoroughly  human,  not  gifted  with  impossible  perfections,  but 
having  those  infirmities  of  the  flesh  which  make  us  all  akin.  It  will  take 
rank  among  the  best  and  most  popular  Sunday-school  books. —  Episcopal 
Register. 

A  pure  sweet  story  of  girl  life,  quiet,  and  yet  of  sufficient  interest  to  hold 
the  attention  of  the  most  careless  reader. — Zioii's  Advocate, 

YENSIE  WALTON'S  WOMANHOOD. 

The  many  readers  who  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  "  Yensie  Wal- 
ton "  in  one  of  the  best  Sunday-school  books  ever  published,  will  be  de- 
lighted to  renew  that  acquaintance,  and  to  keep  their  former  companion 
still  further  company  through  lifo.  There  is  a  strong  religious  tone  to  the 
whole  story,  and  its  teachings  of  morality  and  religion  are  pure  and 
healthful  and  full  of  sweetness  and  beauty.  The  story  is  a  worthy  suc- 
cessor to  Mrs.  Clark's  previous  work. — Boston  Post. 

The  heroine  is  an  excellent  character  for  imitation,  and  the  entire  atmos. 
phere  of  the  book  is  healthf  al  and  purifying. — Pittsburg  Christian  Advo- 
cate. 
OUR  STREET, 

By  the  same  author,  is  a  capital  story  of  every  day  life  which  deals  with 
genuine  character  in  a  most  interesting  manner. 

THE  TRIPLE  E, 

Just  published,  is  a  book  whose  provoking  title  will  be  at  once  acknowl- 
edged by  the  reader  as  an  appropriate  one.     It  fully  sustains  the  author's 
reputation. 
ACHOR,  a  new  book  in  press. 

D.  LOTHROP  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Boston. 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

ALL   AMONG   THE   LIGHTHOUSES.    By  MARY  BRADFORD 
CROWNINSHIELD,  wife   ot  Commander  (Jrowninshield.     Finely  illustrated 
from  photographs  and  original  drawings.     Extra  cloih,  quarto,  £2.50. 
An  attractive  book  for  boys,  giving  the  account  of  an  actual  tnp  along  the 

coast  of  Maine  by  a  lighthouse  inspector  wiih  two  wide  awake  boys  in  charge. 

The  visits  to  the   numerous  lighthouses  not   only  teem   with  incident,  but 

abound  in  information  that  wiil  interest  every  one. 

BOYS'  HEROES.     By   EDWARD   EVERETT  HALE.    Reading  Union 

Library.     i6mo,  illustrated,  cloth,  $1.00. 

Twelve  chapters  containing  the  story  told  in  Dr.  Hale's  characteristic  style, 
of  a  dozen  characters  famea  in  hUiory  as  worthy  to  bear  the  title  of  heroes, 
and  the  story  of  whose  deeds  and  lives  possesses  a  special  interest  for  boys. 

PLUCKY  BOYS.     Business  Bovs'  Library.     By  the  author  of  "  John 

Halifax,  Gentleman,"  and  other  authors.     Ji.oo. 

"  A  pound  of  pluck  is  worth  a  ton  of  luck." —  President  Garfitld.  Spirited 
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A  BOY'S  WORKSHOP.    By  A  BOY  AND  His  FRIENDS.    $1.00. 

Just  the  book  for  boys  talcing  their  first  lesion  in  the  use  of  tools.  All  sorts 
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volume. 

BOY  LIFE  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  NAVY.    By  H.  H. 

CLARK.     i.-mo,  illustrated,  £1.50. 

If  there  is  anything  in  the  way  of  human  attire  which  more  thar  my  other 
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HOW  SUCCESS  IS  WON.  By  MRS.  SARAH  K.  BOLTON.  «,.oo 
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KINGSLEY,  B.  P.  SHILLABER,  FREDERIC  SCHWATKA  and  others.    $1.25. 

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RUBY  HAMILTON.  OLD  AND  NEW  FRIENDS. 

SUBA'3  DISCIPLINE. 

Extracts  fro:n  comments  of  well-known  journals. 
RUBY  HAMILTON. 

This  is  a  very  excellent  Sunday-school  book,  which  can  be 
honestly  commended  for  youthful  readers. —  The  Watchman. 

It  is  a  well-told  story,  conveys  a  pure,  healthful  lesson,  and 
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long  and  admirable  list.  The  story  is  a  sweet  one,  and 
charmingly  told. — Church  Mirror. 

The  spirit  throughout  is  healthy  and  devout.  .  .  .  Al- 
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9tan. 

OLD  AND  NEW  FRIENDS. 

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having  become  mature  men  and  women. — N.  Y.  Evening 
Post. 

Many  readers  will  remember  "  Ruby  Hamilton,"  a  volume 
which  created  quite  a  sensation  at  the  time  of  itspi-blication. 
.  .  .  This  volume,  a  continuation  of  this  story,  ought  to 
become  as  popular  as  its  predecessor. — Christian  Mirror. 

Contains  some  charming  pictures  of  home-life.  .  .  . 
Cannot  but  help  and  strengthen  the  boy  whose  impulses 
are  for  good. — Herald  and  Presbyter. 

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has  merits  of  both  substance  and  style. —  Western  Christian 
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SISBA'S  DISCIPLINE. 

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acter.—  Western  Recorder. 

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day,  and  one  .  .  .  that  can  scarcely  fail  to  benefit  any 
reader  whom  God  leads  along  rough  paths. —  The  Interior. 

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THOUGHTS   THAT   BREATHE. 
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CHEERFUL   WORDS. 
From  George  MacDonald.    Introduction  by  James  T.  Fields 

THE   MIGHT   OF   RIGHT. 

From  Rt.  Hon.  Wm.  E.  Gladstone.   Introduction  by  John  D. 
Long,  LL.  D. 

TRUE   MANLINESS. 

From  Thomas  Hughes.    Introduction  by  Hon.  James  Russell 
Lowell. 

LIVING  TRUTHS. 

From  Charles  Kingsley.     Introduction  by  W.  D.  Howells. 

RIGHT   TO   THE   POINT. 

From  Theodore  L.  Cuyler,  D.  D.     Introduction  by  Newman 
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MANY    COLORED   THREADS. 
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ECHOES    OF   MANY   VOICES. 
Introduction  by  Mrs.  E.  A.  Thurston. 

TREASURE   THOUGHTS. 
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BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS. 

HOLD  UP  YOUR  HEADS ,  GIRLS !    By  ANNIE  H.  RYDBK.    f  t.oa, 

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what  she  knows,  and  has  put  her  own  magnetism  into  these  little  plain,  sensi- 
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A  NEW  DEPARTURE  FOR  GIRLS.    By  MARGARET  SIDNEY. 
75  cents. 

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pride  to  deter  them  from  taking  up  the  homely  work  which  they  are  capable 
of  doing.  It  will  give  an  incentive  to  many  a  baffled,  discouraged  girl  who 
has  failed  from  trying  to  work  in  the  o'.d  ruts. 

HOW   THEY    LEARNED    HOUSEWORK.     By    CHRISTINA 

GOODWIN.     75  ceius. 

Four  merry  schoolgirls  during  vacation  time  are  inducted  into  the  mysteries 
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A  GIRL'S  ROOM.  With  plans  and  designs  for  work  upstairs  and 

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CHRISTIE'S    CHRISTMAS.     By   PANSY.     i2mo,  fully  illustrated, 

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Christie  is  one  of  those  delightfully  life-like,  naive  and  interesting  charac- 
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ANNA  MARIA'S  HOUSEKEEPING.    By  MRS.  S.  D.  POWER. 
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Articles  on  household  matters,  written  in  a  clear,  fascinating  style  out  of 
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young  housekeeper  should  own  a  copy. 

BRAVE  GIRLS.    By  MARY  HARTWBLL  CATHERWOOD,  NORA  PERRY, 

MRS.  JOHN  SHERWOOD  and  others.    #1.50. 

Here  are  deeds  of  stirring  adventure  and  peril,  and  quiet  heroism  no  less 
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NEW  EVERY  MORNING:    Selections  of  Readings  for 
Girls.     By  ANNIE  H.  KYDFR.     Ji.oo. 

This  is  just  such  a  book  as  one  would  expect  from  the  popular  author  of 
"  Hold  up  your  Heads,  Girls!  "  and  will  be  no  less  a  favorite      The  selections 
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"  Her  stories  move  alternately  to  laughter  and  tears."    ... 
"Brimful  of  the  sweetness  of  evangelical^eligion."      ... 
*  Girl  life  and  character  portrayed  with  rare  power."    .     .    . 
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"  Pansy  Books  "  may  be  purchased  by  any  Sunday-school  without 
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Each  volume  izmo,  $1.50. 

Chautauqna  Girls  at  Home.  Links  in  Rebecca's  Life. 

Christie's  Christmas.  Mrs.  Solomon  Smith  Looking  On. 

Divers  Women.  Modern  Prophets. 

Echoing  and  Re-echoing.  Man  of  the  House  (The). 

Endless  Chain  (An).  New  Graft  on  the  Family  Tree  (A\ 

Ester  Ried.  One  Commonplace  Day. 

Ester  Ried  Yet  Speaking.  Pocket  Measure  (The). 

Four  Girls  at  Chautauqua.  Ruth  Erskine's  Crosses. 

From  different  Standpoints.  Randolphs  (The). 

Hall  in  the  Grove  (The).  Sidney  Martin's  Christmas. 

Household  Puzzles.  Those  Boys. 

Interrupted.  Three  People. 

Julia  Ried.  Tip  Lewi?  and  his  Lamp. 

King's  Daughter  (The).  Wise  and  Otherwise. 


ELLA  FARMAN'S  BOOKS. 

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sympathy  with  youth,  always  sunshiny  and  hopeful,  point- 
ing out  new  ways  to  do  things  md  unexpected  causes  for 
happiness  and  gladness.  9  vols.,  large  i6mo,  illust.,  £10.00. 

ANNA  MAYLIE. 

A  story  of  faithful,  resolute  work  in  the  Sunday-school 
an;  in  the  field  of  the  Western  religious  pioneer.  A  stand- 
ard book  for  the  libraries  of  Christian  families.  121110, 
$1.50. 

A  LITTLE  WOMAN. 
A   beautiful   story  of  what  a  little   girl  may  do.     i6mo, 

$1  oo. 

GRANDMA  CROSBY'S  HOUSEHOLD 
A    story  narrating   the    noble    possibilities   of   even   the 
simplest  farmhouse  life.     i6mo,  illust.,  $1.00. 

A  GIRL'S  MONEY. 

A  fascinating  and  pathetic  story  of  a  girl  who  was  true  to 
her  ideals.  i6n.%  illust.,  $1.00. 

G001>-FOR-NO THING  POLLY. 

The  story  of  a  boy  who  ran  away  from  home,  assisted  by 
his  father  and  the  minister.  161110,  cloth,  illust.,  $1.00. 

HOW  TWO  GIRLS  TRIED  FARMING. 
A  piquant    narrative   of    an   actual    experience.      i6mo, 
paper,  50  cents.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

THE  COOKING  CLUB  OF  TU-WHIT  HOLLOW. 

A  merry,  biigh  book  that  will  help  make  good  house- 
keepers of  our  daughters ;  as  through  and  through  the 
sparkling  story  runs  practical  lessons  and  valuable  sug- 
estions.  16010,  $i  oo. 

MRS.  KURD'S  NIECE. 

This  is  one  of  Miss  Farman's  strongest  works  for  girls, 
with  characters  finely  drawn.  i2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  $1.50. 

A  WHITE  HAND. 
A  story  of  American  society.     i6mo,  illust.,  £1.501 


MARGARET  SIDNEY'S  BOOKS. 

That  "Child  Classic,"  FIVE  LITTLE  PEPPERS  AND  HOW 
THEY  GREW\  comes  out  in  a  new,  charming  edition.     $1.50. 
The  perfect  reproduction  of  child  life  in  its  minutest  phases  catches  one's 

attention  at  once.  —  Christian  Advocate. 

SO  AS  BY  FIRE.    $1.25. 

We  1iave  followed  with  intense  interest  the  story  of  David  Folsom.  — 
Woman  at  Work. 

THE  PETTIBONE  NAME.    $1.25. 

This  is  a  capital  story  illustrating  New  England  life. — Inter-Ocean,  Chi- 
cago. 

The  characters  of  the  story  seem  to  be  '.tudies  from  life.  —  Boston  Post. 
HALF  YEAR  AT  BRONCK1ON.    #1.25- 

A  lively  boy  writes,  "  This  is  abouc  the  best  book  that  ever  was  written  or 
ever  can  be." 

HOW  THEY  WENT  TO  EUROPE.    i6mo,  illustrated. 

The  plan  of  the  book  resembles,  in  some  respects,  that  of  "  A  Voyage 
Around  my  Room."  It  is  certainly  bright.  — N.  Y.  Independent. 

THE  GOLDEN  WEST.    Extra  cloth,  $2.25  ;  boards,  $1.75. 

The  best  travel  book  for  children.  It  combines  fun  with  instruction  in  the 
right  proportions.  The  pictures  of  the  States  west  of  the  Mississippi  and 
along  the  sunny  Pacific  slopes,  are  full  of  graphic  coloring. 

WHO  TOLD  IT  TO  ME?    $1.25. 

A  most  stirring  story  of  school  life  in  New  England.  The  characters  make 
their  mark  in  the  war  for  the  Union.  It  is  such  a  book  as  you  would  expect 
from  Margaret  Sidney. 

WHAT  THE  SEVEN  DID.    Boards,  $1.75;  extra  cloth,  ^.fj. 

A  royal  gift  book  for  children.  They  read  it  again  and  again,  and,  best  of 
ill,  they  practice  it.  Many  Wordsworth  Clubs  are  doing  deeds  of  charity  ac- 
cording to  the  model  iu  this  book. 

A  NEW  DEPARTURE  FOR  GIRLS.    75  cents. 

The  most  practical,  sensible  and  to-the-point  book  which  has  been  written 
for  girls  within  the  last  fifty  years — a  godsend  to  the  "  Helen  Harknesses" 
of  our  great  cities,  and  small  towns  as  well.  That  this  kindly  effort  has  already 
reached  young  women  is  evident  from  advertisements  already  appearing  in  the 
"  Wanted  "  columns  of  the  Boston  dailies. 

POLLY :    Where  she  lived,  what  she  said  and  "what  she 

Did.     Quarto,  50  cents. 

With  twelve  full-page  pictures  by  Margaret  Johnson.  A  story  of  a  funny 
parrot  and  two  charming  children. 

ON  EASTER  DAY.    An  illustrated  poem.    35  cents. 

THE  MINUTE  MAN.    A  ballad  of  the  "shot  heard  round  the  world." 
Illustrated,  £1.50. 

HESTILR,  and  other  New  England  Stories.     A  story  for  adults     $1.25. 

The  character  touches  are  strong  and  well-defined.  It  is  fresh  with  New 
England  atmosphere. 

TWO  MODERN  LITTLE  PRINCES,  and  other  Stories  for  young 
people.     $1.00.  ^ 

Full  of  exquisite  touches  of  humor  and  pathos,  and  cosey  home  Ufa 

COPYRIGHT,  1886,  uv  D.  LOTHROP  &  Co. 


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